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When the rifle spoke the huge head of the buffalo 
was almost under Poke’s belly {Page 253) 


THE TRAIL BOYS 
OFTHE PLAINS 

OR 

THE HUNT FOR THE BIG BUFFALO 

BY 

JAY WINTHROP ALLEN 

ILLUSTRATED BY 
WALTER S. ROGERS 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright, 1915 
By DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 



Of'i’ -6 ISIS 


©CI,A410874 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I Something About a Big Buffalo . i 

II At the Silent Sue 12 

III The Lame Indian 22 

IV The Rocking Stone 33 

V The Bears’ Den 46 

VI In the Old Tunnel 56 

VII The Rescue — And Afterward . . 65 

VIII Chet Shoots a Hawk 79 

IX On the Trail to Grub Stake . . 93 

X Mr. Havens Has a Visitor . . .109 

XI The First Adventure 116 

XH A Maverick 124 

XHI "'The Dog Soldiers” 139 

XIV The Warning 149 

XV What Won’t Be Led Must Be 

Driven ” 159 

XVI The Wolf Ring 174 

XVH A Mystery 186 

XVIII Royal Game 198 

XIX A Fruitless Chase 208 

XX A Midnight Alarm 218 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI A Startling Discovery .... 227 

XXII After the Thieves 236 

XXIII The First Buffalo 250 

XXIV Tit for Tat 263 

XXV Chet’s Determination .... 272 

XXVI “The King of Them All!” . . . 283 

XXVII Dig’s Great Idea 295 

XXVIII Great Luck 306 

XXIX Plenty of Excitement . . . .317 

XXX How It Ended 328 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

When the rifle spoke the huge head of the buf- 
falo was almost under Poke’s belly (Page 
253) Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

Dig spurred his horse over to the place and leaped 
down to give his chum a helping hand . . . 42 

Then Chet saw the bear — a big black fellow, 
standing erect 120 

They fairly “ wolfed ” the venison steaks . . . 192 





THE TRAIL BOYS OF THE PLAINS 












CHAPTER I 


SOMETHING ABOUT A BUFFALO 

“ Do YOU really suppose such a buffalo exists ? ” 
queried Chet Havens, who was braiding a whip- 
lash. 

You’ve got me there, boy,” said his chum. Dig 
Fordham, trying for the hundredth time to carve 
his initials in the adamantine surface of the old 
horse-block, and with a dull jackknife. 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! wouldn’t it be just the Jim-dandy adventure, 
Chet, if we could go out after this herd and capture 
the king of them all? It would be great! ” 

“ It would be great enough, all right,” admitted 
Chet, nodding. “ But it would be some contract to 
capture such a bull. According to all accounts he 
must be as strong as an elephant and almost as 
big” 

‘‘ Whew ! do you think so, Chet ? ” 

“If he measures up anywhere near to the speci- 
fications that Tony Traddles gave us last week.” 
“Oh — Tony!” returned Dig, in disgust. “If 


2 


The Trail Boys of the Plains 

he saw a lizard sitting on a log in the sun he’d de- 
clare it was the size of a crocodile.” 

Chetwood Havens laughed. He was a nice-look- 
ing, fair-haired boy with grey-blue eyes and long, 
dextrous, capable hands. He braided the thongs 
without giving them more than a casual and cursory 
glance. 

He was a tall boy, and slender, but with plenty 
of bodily strength. Digby Fordham was more 
sturdily built. He was square-set, broad-shoul- 
dered and thick-chested ; and he had a broad, good- 
humoured face as well. His black hair was crisp; 
he had little, twinkling eyes; and usually his coun- 
tenance wore a smile. 

Well,” Chet went on to say, following his 
chum’s criticism of Tony’s report, ‘‘ there was 
Rafe Peters. Rafe is an old hunter, and he 
ought to know what he’s talking about when he 
says it’s the biggest bull buffalo that he ever saw.” 

‘‘ Aw — all the buffaloes have gone up into Can- 
ada, somewhere,” growled Dig. 

No. I expect there are stray herds — small 
ones — hidden away in the mountains. Something 
or other has driven this herd out upon the plains. 
I heard some of the men talking about making up a 


Something About a Buffalo 3 

party to go out and shoot ^em; but they are all too 
busy just now in the mines.” 

“ I reckon Rafe was just trying to string us,” said 
Dig. 

“ You're a Doubting Thomas,” laughed his chum. 

‘‘Well, why shouldn’t I be? I’ve heard tell of 
buffaloes ever since I was knee-high to a tin whistle, 
and never a buffalo sign have I seen yet — ’cept 
those mangy old robes father’s got in the barn. I’m 
beginning to be like the old farmer that went into 
the menagerie and saw the giraffe. After he’d 
stared at it for an hour he shook his head, and said, 
‘ Drat it all ! there jest ain't no such animile ! ’ ” and 
Dig chuckled. 

Chet was reflective. “ Strange how all those 
creatures have disappeared from the western plains, 
where they were once so plentiful,” he said. “ Pete 
was telling me that he was once hired by a govern- 
ment expedition to keep the men supplied with fresh 
meat, and that he often shot two and three hundred 
buffaloes in a single day.” 

“ Whew!” 

“ And he was only one white hunter who worked 
at that time on the herds. Some just killed the 
beasts for their hides — and the hides were as low 


4 


The Trail Boys of the Plains 

as a dollar apiece at one time. Then, the Indians 
slaughtered hundreds of thousands uselessly. Why, 
Dig! I was reading the other night that when the 
first Spaniards came up from Mexico across the 
Great Staked Plains, they had to fairly push their 
way through the buffalo herds.” 

Whew I ” said his chum again. When was 
this, Chet ? ” 

Some time before you were born, boy,” re- 
turned Chet, dryly. 

Did you ever see a buffalo ? ” demanded Dig, 
suddenly. 

‘‘ Yes, at Nugget City when Wolfer Ben’s Wild 
West showed there. He had a bull and three cows ; 
and lots of old plainsmen went to see the show just 
because of the buffaloes. They hadn’t seen any of 
the creatures for a couple of decades.” 

Dig was still chuckling. ‘‘ Tell some eastern 
folks that and they wouldn’t believe you. You 
know. I’ve a cousin Tom down Boston way, and 
he’s always writing and saying he wants to come 
out here.” 

‘‘ I’ve heard you speak of him.” 

“ Yep. Well, every time Tom gets mad with 
the folks at home, or sore on the school he goes to, 


Something About a Buffalo 5 

or the teachers, he writes me and says he’s going to 
run away and come out here. And he wants to 
know what kind of guns and ammunition he’ll have 
to buy, and if he’ll have to wear a bowie-knife and 
two pistols stuck in his belt. He, he ! ” 

“ He must be a blockhead,” said Chet, in disgust. 
“ What does he think Silver Run is ? ” 

‘‘ Well, I tell you,” proceeded Digby, “ it’s partly 
my fault. At first I told him the truth — that we 
had churches and schools and a circulating library, 
and folks took a bath Saturday nights, if they didn’t 
oftener, and wore boiled shirts on Sunday; and that 
a man who wore a pistol in his belt would be taken 
in by the constable and examined as to his sanity. 

“But that didn’t suit Tom — oh, no! He said 
he knew I was kidding him.” 

“ He did?” 

“ That’s what ! So I got sick of being disbe- 
lieved, and I began to write him the sort of Stuff 
he wanted. I told him about the Comanches at- 
tacking the town and we beating ’em off with great 
slaughter.” 

“Dig Fordham! How could you? Why, we 
haven’t seen a bad Indian in years.” 

“ Never mind. That’s what Tom wanted me to 


6 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

tell him. I told him all the miners wore red flannel 
shirts, and went about with their pants tucked into 
their boot-tops, and that they wore pistols in their 
belts, and bowie-knives in their boots — By the 
way, Chet; what is a bowie-knife? ” 

Chet laughed. “A kind of long-bladed hunting 
knife, ground to an edge on both sides of the point, 
and invented by Colonel James Bowie, of Texas. 
I got that out of an encyclopaedia.” 

‘‘ Well, Tom knows all about 'em. I hope he 
comes out here some time, togged up in the way he 
thinks we dress at Silver Run. If he does, I know 
he'd scare a corral full of ponies into fits ! ” and 
Dig went off into another spasm of laughter. 

The boys had gotten off the subject of the strange 
buffalo herd that had appeared on the open plains 
between Silver Run and Grub Stake, a second silver 
mining town, deeper in the Rockies. Before Dig 
recovered from his laughter at his own humorous 
conception of his cousin’s appearance at Silver Run, 
Chet started up into a listening attitude. 

‘‘ What you cocking your ears for, Chet ? ” de- 
manded Dig. What’s got you ? ” 

“Who’s this coming?” demanded Chet, holding 
up his hand. 


Something About a Buffalo 7 

When the boys were silent they could hear the 
pounding of heavily shod feet on the hard road. 
The Havens lived on the outskirts of Silver Run, 
and the road to the mines passed by their corral 
fence. 

Chet sprang up, and even the slower Digby 
showed interest. The pounding feet were coming 
rapidly nearer. 

The boys ran around the comer of the high board 
fence to the edge of the road. There, coming down 
the hill, and out from the belt of timber that sur- 
rounded the mountain above the town, was a man 
in yellow overalls and cowhide boots. He was 
without a cap, his shirt was open at the throat, 
and every indication about him showed excite- 
ment. 

“ Goodness I gasped Chet. ‘‘ What can that 
mean ? ” 

“ It’s Dan Gubbins — and he’s so scared he can’t 
shut his mouth!” observed Dig. 

This seemed true. Dan Gubbins ran with his 
mouth wide open and fear expressed unmistakably 
in his rugged features. He was one of the men 
working in the mine in which Mr. Havens and Mr. 
Fordham were interested. 


8 


The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Hey, Dan! what’s the matter?” shouted Dig, 
as the big miner came closer. 

""She’s caved!” croaked the man, his throat so 
dry he could scarcely speak. 

"" Who’s caved ? ” demanded Dig. 

"" What’s caved ? ” asked Chet, better understand- 
ing the vernacular. 

"" The Silent Sue ! She slumped in like rotten 
ice in February ! ” gasped the big miner, leaning 
against the fence near the boys. "" Oh, my Jim- 
miny! It’s awful!” 

Chet turned pale. Dig reddened and gulped back 
a sob with difficulty. 

"" You — you don’t mean the mine’s all caved 
in?” stammered the latter. 

""The shaft,” replied Dan. 

Chet, the practical, demanded: 

"" How many are caught in the cave-in ? ” 

"" There’s five down there, besides — ” 

Dan halted and stared at the boy with sudden 
apprehension. Then, after a moment, he whis- 
pered : 

""My golly, Chet! whatever am I to tell your 
mother? Yer dad’s down there with ’em!” 

""Father!” exclaimed Chet, seizing Dig’s hand. 


Something About a Buffalo 9 

“ Is my father in it too ? ” cried Dig, ready to 
burst into tears. 

Mr. -Fordham warn't there noways,’’ said Dan, 
getting his breath and able now to speak more in- 
telligibly. “ Whatever am I to tell your mother, 
Chet ? ” he repeated. 

“ You won’t say anything to her, Dan,” replied 
the boy, firmly. ‘‘ Fll tell her myself. But give 
me the particulars. We want to know how it hap- 
pened. Isn’t there any hope? Can’t we get at 
them down there?” 

Dunno,” returned the miner. “ Rafe Peters is 
in charge, and they are digging like prairie-dogs to 
get down into the gallery. Everybody down there 
is all right so fur. Ye see, it was like this: There 
was a blast goin’ to be shot in Number Two tunnel. 
Ye know where that run to? ” 

Chet nodded. Over toward the old Crayton 
Shaft — that’s open now — on the other side of 
the mountain. Father was saying the other day 
that the Silent Sue’s Number Two must be getting 
pretty near the old diggings.” 

“ That’s it,” said Dan Gubbins, nodding, and 
wiping his moist forehead with the back of a hairy 
hand. ‘‘ Well, they got ready that shot, which was 


lo The Trail Boys of the Plains 

a heavy one. The timbering of the lower part of 
the shaft didn’t suit Mr. Havens and he told Tony 
to put in new cross-braces and some new planks.” 

“Tony Traddles?” demanded Chet. 

“ Yes. An’ he oughter be jailed for what he 
done,” added the miner, bitterly. 

“How was that?” queried Digby, his eyes big 
with interest. 

“ Mr. Havens,” pursued the miner, “ went down 
to see that all was clear in the tunnel before the shot. 
He sings out to Tony and asks if the timbering was 
all right ; and the lazy rascal said ’twas.” 

“ And wasn’t it ? ” snapped Chet, his eyes blaz- 
ing. 

“ No. He’d come up to fill and light his pipe 
and hadn’t blocked and wedged his cross-beams. 
There was five of the boys ’sides your father in the 
tunnel, and when the shot went off the shoring at 
the bottom of the shaft shook right out and she 
caved in! It was awful! I wonder you didn’t 
hear the rumble of it. And what I’m goin’ ter say 
ter your mother, Chet — ” 

“ You’re going to say nothing to her, Dan,” re- 
peated the boy. “ I’ll tell her. You go and get a 
doctor, or two, Dan — and all the other help you 


Something About a Buffalo ii 

can. You saddle Hero and Poke, Dig. We must 
get up to the mine in a hurry. I won’t be in the 
house long.” 

He turned quickly away and started for the back 
door of his home. The others did not see his face. 


CHAPTER II 


AT THE SILENT SUE 

Those few yards between the corral and the back 
door of the Havens’ pretty home in the Silver Run 
suburb, were the hardest steps Chet had ever taken. 
For his age he was naturally a thoughtful boy, and 
he had been impressed by the manner in which his 
father ever shielded the delicate, gentle mother from 
all the rough things of life. If there was an ac- 
cident in the mine, Mr. Havens seldom mentioned 
it before his wife, and never did he repeat the par- 
ticulars. 

Chet had seen and understood. He knew that 
his mother was not to be troubled by ordinary things 
if it could be helped. Of course, she must know of 
his father’s danger; but the news must be broken 
to her carefully. He could not allow rough but 
kind-hearted Dan Gubbins to go in with his story 
of the accident at the Silent Sue claim. 

As he entered the sewing-room where his mother 
was engaged at her work, she looked up with a little 
smile on her face. 


12 


At the Silent Sue 


13 


“ What’s wanted, Chetwood ? ” she asked. 

She was a small woman, with a very delicate pink 
flush in her cheeks and bands of prematurely grey 
hair above her forehead and over the tops of her 
ears. Chet often said, laughingly, that if he ever 
wanted to marry a girl, he’d wait to find one who 
wore her hair just like his mother wore hers. 

What’s wanted, Chetwood?” she repeated, as 
the boy remained silent after quietly closing the 
door. Then she saw his troubled face and the work 
on which she was busied fell from her hands and, 
from her lap, slipped to the floor as she slowly rose. 

“Chetwood! My son! your father — ?” 

Her cry was low, but it thrilled Chet to the heart. 
He sprang forward to seize her shaking hands. He 
knew that she was ever fearful when Mr. Havens 
was in the mine. 

“It’s not so bad as all that. Mother! Wait! 
don’t believe the worst ! ” begged the boy, his voice 
choked with emotion. 

“He — he isn’t killed?” 

“ Not a bit of it ! There’s been a — a little acci- 
dent. Father is down there with some of the other 
men.” 

“ Down where ? ” she asked sharply. 


14 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

In Number Two drift. There was a cave-in. 
Of course they’ll get them out. Old Rafe Peters 
is on the job already with a gang. I’m going right 
up there.” 

‘‘ Oh, Chet ! Are you sure that is all ? They 
are still alive ? ” 

‘‘Of course!” cried the boy, with strong convic- 
tion and even calling up a smile. “ Dan Gubbins 
came down to bring the news and get some more 
men. Dig and I are going to ride right up.” 

“ Where is Digby’s father ? ” queried Mrs. 
Havens anxiously. 

“ He didn’t happen to be there when the cave-in 
took place. But he’s probably there now. We’ll 
get at them all right. Don’t you fear. Mother.” 

“ Oh, but my son ! I shall be fearful indeed until 
I know your father is safe. I am always afraid 
when he is in the mine. The men take such 
chances ! ” 

“ Well, the Silent Sue has not recorded many ac- 
cidents. Father and Dig’s father are both very 
careful. Now, Mother, don’t worry any more than 
you can help. I’ll send down word just as soon as 
we know anything for sure.” 

He kissed her — and kissed her cheerfully. That 


At the Silent Sue 15 

was the hardest part of his mission, for he, too, 
was greatly worried. Then he seized his cap and 
quirt and hurried out to the corral. Dig Fordham 
had, for once, been prompt. He held Chet’s hand- 
some bay. Hero, by the bridle, while his own sleepy- 
looking, Roman-nosed Poke was cropping grass at 
the edge of the road. 

‘‘ Come on. Dig! ” Chet cried, hastily jerking the 
reins from his chum’s hand. ‘‘We must hurry.” 

“Did you tell her?” whispered his chum, awe- 
struck. 

“ All she needed to know now,” snapped back 
Chet. “ Look alive ! ” 

He was astride of Hero in a moment and the 
noble animal took the trail without urging. Dig 
whistled for Poke. Then he whistled again. The 
ugly, sleepy-looking animal stopped for just one 
more bite. 

“Isn’t that just like you, you ornery brute!” 
growled Digby. “If ever I wanted you in a hurry 
you wouldn’t mind. Come on ! ” 

He jumped for the horse, caught at the trailing 
bridle, and Poke stood on his hind legs and pawed 
the air, his eyes suddenly afire, striving to wheel 
about and escape Dig’s clutching hand. 


1 6 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Digby Fordham wasn’t afraid of any horse. He 
sprang right in under the pawing hoofs, and seized 
the dangling reins. His hold was secure; his wrist 
firm. At his first jerk Poke’s head came down 
and, naturally, the horse’s forefeet as well. 

The instant the hoofs struck the ground, and be- 
fore Poke could begin any further display of antics. 
Dig was in the saddle. Chet, looking back over his 
shoulder as Hero set the pace up the mountain, saw 
that his chum was securely astride Poke. Give Dig 
both feet in the stirrups, and no horse living could 
dismount him. He rode as though he were a part 
of the horse. 

Digby and Poke were not always in accord, but 
Poke was tireless and carried the heavy boy as 
though he were a feather-weight. Poke could go 
without food and water much longer than most 
mountain-bred mustangs. Dig declared there must 
be a strain of camel in him. But there was not an 
attractive thing about the brute, either in temper or 
appearance. 

In a minute he was neck and neck with Hero, and 
both horses were carrying their young masters up 
the slope at a fast pace. Dig grumbled : 

‘‘ This old rascal always cuts up when I want him 


At the Silent Sue 


17 

in a hurry. I’m going to trade him off for a horned 
toad, and then use the toad for a currycomb. Your 
Hero is a regular lady’s horse ’side o’ him.” 

‘‘ You know you wouldn’t take any money for 
old Poke,” returned Chet, reaching out and smiting 
the black across his ugly nose with his own palm. 

Why do you give him a chance to get away from 
you? ” 

Because hope springs eternal in my breast,” 
declared Dig, who would joke under any and all 
circumstances. I’m always hopin’ I’ve got the 
rascal broken of his bad habits.” 

Chet was not in a mood for laughter; nor was 
his chum careless of thought. He really hoped to 
get Chet’s mind off the mine accident. It might not 
be anywhere near so bad as Dan Gubbins had said. 

Mining at Silver Run was now carried on with 
much more care for human life than it had been 
when the claims were first staked out and the 
original owners had begun to get out ‘‘ pay dirt.” 
Mr. Havens was a practical engineer, a graduate 
from a College of Mines, and with a long experi- 
ence at other diggings before he had obtained a 
controlling interest in the Silent Sue. 

It was a mine the stock of which had never been 


1 8 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

exploited in the eastern market. Mr. Fordham 
and Mr. Havens had always been able to obtain 
sufficient capital to buy machinery and improve 
their methods of getting out the ore; and they found 
the Silent Sue too steadily productive to need any 
other partners. 

Mr. Havens owned, also, a second claim near the 
first that might some day develop into a rich one. 

When the two chums rode up to the collection of 
rude miners’ cabins, sheds, the stamp-mill, and 
other shanties that surrounded the mouth of the 
mine-shaft, they found a crowd already gathered. 
Men and women alike were commingling excitedly 
about the shaft in which the rescue party was at 
work. 

A big, bushy-whiskered man in yellow overalls 
and a tarpaulin hat was urging on the workers, and 
trying to keep the women and children back from 
the open mouth of the pit. 

Oh, Rafe ! ” cried Chet, throwing himself out 
of the saddle and running up to the mine boss. 
“ Are they down there yet ? ” 

‘‘They’re all right so fur, Chet,” declared the 
man. 


“ Can you get them out? ” 


At the Silent Sue 


19 

“ I kin try — and that’s what I’m doin’,” the 
mine boss said huskily. “ Thirty foot of the bot- 
tom of the shaft’s caved in. It’s caved from all 
four sides. We’re diggin’ out the earth and rub- 
bage and sendin’ it up by the bucket-load. Fast as 
we kin, we’re replacin’ the timbering. That’s the 
best we can do.” 

Chet had a quick mind and he knew a good deal 
about such accidents, although there had been noth- 
ing like this at the Silent Sue since he could remem- 
ber. 

“ You can’t work a big gang in the shaft, Rafe,” 
he said anxiously. “ How long will it take ’em to 
get down to the bottom and into the side tunnels? ” 

“ I dunno, boy, I dunno,” the old man said, 
plainly worried. But we’re workin’ jest as fast 
as ever we can. I’m shiftin’ the men ev’ry two 
hours and they’re all puttin’ in their very best licks.” 

‘‘ You haven’t heard — heard from fa-father ? ” 
gasped Chet, trying to control his voice. 

‘‘Golly! No, boy!” exclaimed the mine boss. 
“ Thar’s thirty foot of rubbage, I tell yer, at the 
bottom of the shaft. If they was hollerin’ their 
heads off we wouldn’t hear ’em yet. The fall of 
earth and stuff is packed like iron.” 


20 


The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ Oh, it’ll be all right, Chet ! It’ll be all right,” 
urged his chum, who had come up after hitching 
the two mustangs. 

Dig’s father had not as yet arrived. Nobody 
seemed to have much head about him but old Rafe. 
But perhaps nobody could do much. Chet stared 
at his chum and the mine boss hopelessly. 

“ Why, see ! ” he gasped. ‘‘ It may be a week 
before you can clear the bottom of that shaft — it 
may be longer ! What will father — and the others 
— do all that time? Oh, Dig! it’s awful — it’s 
awful! They’ll starve to death ! ” 

“ Whew I I hadn’t thought of that,” muttered 
Digby Fordham. 

Old Rafe Peters shook his head. He was keep- 
ing his eyes on the buckets of rubbage,” as he 
called it, that were being swiftly brought to the sur- 
face by the steam winch. He had excavated the 
lower end of the shaft himself and he knew the 
strata of earth through which it passed. By the 
colour of that which came up in the buckets, he 
knew the diggers had not gone far as yet. 

One bucket went down as the other came up. It 
was not down three minutes before the signal rang 
for it to be hoisted again. But thousands upon 


At the Silent Sue 21 

thousands of buckets of debris would have to be 
hoisted out of the shaft ere the way would be 
opened into tunnel Number Two, lower level, in 
which Mr. Havens and the miners were entombed. 


CHAPTER III 


THE LAME INDIAN 

The five men shut in the mine with Chet’s father 
were all married and their wives and children made 
the noisiest group of all at the mouth of the Silent 
Sue mine. The rough men standing about tried to 
comfort them; but there was not much of a com- 
forting nature to say. 

There were plenty of men for the work of rescue; 
indeed, there were so many in each two-hour shift 
that they got in each other’s way. Chet Havens 
had put the situation concisely and to the point: 
It would take more than a week to dig down to the 
opening of Number Two tunnel; meanwhile, how 
would the entombed miners live without food or 
water ? 

Mr. Fordham had not returned and there was 
nobody for the two boys to confer with. The mine 
foreman was doing all that seemed possible. It 
was a question whether what he did was of much 
use. 

Six men in a stoppered tunnel, with no ventila- 


22 


The Lame Indian 23 

tion and nothing to eat or drink, were not going to 
live long. Chet doubted if any of them would be 
alive at the week’s end. 

“ Wait till father comes,” Dig said, almost sob- 
bing, and seeing how badly his chum felt. “ Per- 
haps he’ll know some other way to get into that 
drift.” 

‘‘ What way ? ” demanded Chet. ‘‘ He doesn’t 
know any more about the mine than we do.” 

“ Maybe from the old upper level — ” 

“ Bah ! you know better,” Chet said sharply. 
“ The pay-streak they followed first in this mine is 
only fifty feet down. It petered out before your 
father and mine bought into the Silent Sue — you 
know that. Dig. 

“No chance ! The two levels have never been 
connected, save by the shaft itself. Your father 
can’t dig any faster than these men are digging. 
If there were only a way — 

“ Say, Dig ! there’s the Crayton Shaft. Don’t 
you remember it? Father told me the Number 
Two tunnel on the lower level was pretty close to 
the old Crayton diggings. He always said that if 
the Crayton people had kept on, they’d have struck 
pay-ore again. But they got cold feet and father 


24 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

bought a share in the claim cheap. Now there’s 
been a fellow around after it. I heard father talk- 
ing about it.” 

“ What good will it do to go down the Crayton 
shaft?” demanded Dig hopelessly. 

‘‘ I don’t know — I don’t know,” admitted Chet. 
“ But I can’t stand here idle. I’ll go crazy — 
crazy! I must do something! Maybe the wall be- 
tween the tunnel of the Crayton mine and our Num- 
ber Two is not very thick. I’ve got a compass, and 
I know this hill like a book. So do you. Let’s 
take a pick and shovel and ride over there.” 

‘‘Oh, Chet! I’m afraid you’re stirring yourself 
all up over nothing,” returned his chum. “ I’ll help 
you, of course; but I’m afraid it won’t help us any 
to go over there.” 

“ We’ll not know till we try.” 

“ Will you take some of the men to help us? ” 

“ Two can do all that can be done,” answered 
Chet, rather shrinking from taking even Rafe 
Peters into his confidence. It seemed such a for- 
lorn hope ! 

“If the blast went off at the end of the tun- 
nel, it’ll be full of rubbish and take a lot of digging 
to get through it.” 


The Lame Indian 25 

“ No. Our tunnel isn’t going head-on into the 
Crayton drift. I understood father to say that 
Number Two tunnel passed the old diggings by. 
My goodness! if he only remembers it, and knows 
just where the Crayton tunnel is, maybe he and the 
boys will start digging that way at once. Come on. 
Dig! Let’s ride over.” 

Chet ran to the tool shed and seized a pick and 
shovel; the latter he tossed to his chum and then 
sprang astride Hero with the pick in his hand. 
This time his friend had no trouble in getting Poke, 
for he had fastened that uneasy animal. 

There was so much excitement around the mouth 
of the shaft that nobody noticed the two boys rid- 
ing away into the woods trail. They knew the way 
perfectly. Indeed, there were not many trails in 
the vicinity of Silver Run and the mountain that 
towered over it which were not familiar to Chet 
Havens and Dig Fordham. 

This mountain had been deeply scarred by the 
miners of the old days. One side of the hill had 
been eaten away by the hydraulic mining which was 
carried on when gold was first discovered here. 
How much of the rich silver ore, which the early 
prospectors did not recognise, had been wasted in 


26 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

the first excitement of finding gold, will never be 
known. 

For this really was a hill of silver. The veins 
of ore streaked it like the arteries in a human body. 
The Silent Sue claim chanced to contain seemingly 
exhaustless veins; while the old Crayton mine soon 
petered out. 

Once the wall of the forest had shut out the view 
of the shaft buildings, the boys were likewise out 
of sight of all human habitations. The old trail 
was rough and in places washed away, or filled up 
with leaves or other litter. 

Now and again as they rode along they came to 
deep excavations in the hillside, old pits which had 
been abandoned almost as soon as dug. There was 
^ neither gold nor silver in these places, although the 
indications on the surface had toled the early miners 
on to make the excavations. 

At first the prospectors had been after gold, and 
gold alone. The gold dust was mixed with a black, 
rotten ore that the early miners did not recognise 
as sulphuret of silver, which is nothing more than 
the pure metal in a decomposed state. The pros- 
pectors complained loudly of the “ nuisance ” of 
this black stuff. It was worse than the black sand 


The Lame Indian 27 

found always in gold diggings, for such sand does 
not interfere with the amalgamation of the gold 
ore. 

This “ black stuff ’’ interfered with the mining of 
gold, and the diggings got a bad name because of 
it. It was some years after the cessation of gold 
digging in the mountain above Silver Run (which 
was not then on the map) that the nature of this 
rotten silver ore began to be understood. The 
Comstock Lode had then excited world-wide atten- 
tion, and men who had been among those who had 
worked the claims on this mountain remembered 
that the same kind of ore that proved so rich in the 
Comstock claim had been thrown aside and anathe- 
matised by the miners in these old diggings. 

So there was another rush.’’ Silver Run was 
established. In some relocated claims the silver ore 
was seen to be almost inexhaustible, as in the Silent 
Sue, the mine owned by the fathers of Chet and 
Digby. 

Silver Run had become a town of some impor- 
tance. There were other industries besides mining. 
It was a well governed town, and although on the 
verge of the wilderness it had easy communication 
with cities in a more advanced state of civilisation. 


28 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

When the boys were about two miles from the 
Silent Sue mine, they came upon one of the aban- 
doned camps. There was little left to mark its 
occupancy by the prospectors of the old regime save 
several caved-in shafts and some rusted, corrugated- 
iron shacks. 

From the rusty stove-pipe chimney of one of 
these, smoke was curling, and Digby said: 

I bet that’s where the lame Indian hangs out. 
You know, he’s old Scar face’s grandson.” 

''I know. John Peep. That’s what the boys 
used to call him when he came to school.” 

‘‘ You don’t want to call him that to his face,” 
chuckled Dig. ‘‘ It makes him madder ’n a hen on 
a hot skillet. He’s got some fancy Indian name 
that he prefers to be called by. Oh, he’s a reg’lar 
blanket Indian — and Scar face does odd jobs of 
cleaning out cellars and whitewashing ! ” 

‘‘ Poor fellow ! ” said Chet, scarcely giving his 
mind to the matter of the Indian youth. ‘‘ It must 
be tough to limp around on a game leg. One’s 
shorter than the other. You don’t often hear of a 
lame Indian.” 

No. Father says that in the old days if an 
Indian baby was born deformed they got rid of it 


The Lame Indian 29 

right away. And when Indians used to fight they 
fought so hard that they usually killed each other. 
That’s why there were seldom cripples among them. 

‘‘ But this chap — Ah ! there he is.” 

A figure appeared at the open door of the shack. 
It was that of a tall, slim boy, very dark, with red 
under the skin on his cheekbones, and straight, long 
black hair. His scalp lock ” was braided; the rest 
of the hair was well greased and hung to his 
shoulders. 

The shoulders of the Indian youth were bare. 
Indeed, he wore nothing at all in the way of a gar- 
ment above his waist. Dig waved his hand to the 
Indian, and shouted: 

‘‘Hello, John! You livin’ up here all alone?” 

The Indian youth made no immediate reply, but 
walked out to the trail on which the boys were 
riding. Chet was impatient of delay, but Dig 
pulled in his horse. The lame boy stepped between 
the chums and Chet looked back, restraining Hero. 

“ What are you boys doing up this way ? ” asked 
John. 

“ We’re in a hurry,” said Chet quickly. “ Going 
over to the Crayton shaft.” 

“What for?” 


30 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘^Say! you’re kind of nosey, I think,” said Dig 
frankly. ‘‘ What do you want to know for ? ” 

But John Peep was looking at Chet and seemed 
to expect his answer to come from that individual. 

There’s been an accident at the shaft of my 
father’s mine,” Chet said. “ There is a cave-in, 
and my father and five other men are shut down in 
the mine. We’re going to see if we can’t get into 
the Silent Sue mine from the old Crayton shaft. 
You know the Crayton shaft, John? ” 

“ I know,” said the Indian boy, nodding. ‘‘ You 
can’t get down there.” 

“ Why can’t we? ” cried Dig explosively. “ You 
don’t know what you’re talking about ! ” 

“ You can’t get down there,” repeated the lame 
Indian, but stepping out of the way when Dig urged 
Poke along the trail. 

“ Why not ? ” asked Chet again. 

‘‘ You can’t get down there,” said the Indian for 
a third time, and then he turned and hobbled back 
toward the shack. 

You can’t get any sense out of him'* grumbled 
Dig, in disgust. “ He’s got some bug in his head. 
Maybe he thinks this whole mountain belongs to 
him because it used to belong to his tribe. Old 


The Lame Indian 


31 

Scar face told me this mountain was ‘ bad medicine ' 
and nobody used to come here but the Indian medi- 
cine men in the old days. You couldn’t hire Scar- 
face to come up here.” 

The two white boys were riding steadily on over 
the rough trail. Chet kept looking back at the 
abandoned camp, for he was puzzled. He won- 
dered what John Peep could have meant. 

“ There ! ” he exclaimed suddenly. ‘‘ See that ? ” 

“ See what ? ” demanded his chum, twisting his 
neck in order to look behind him. 

There’s a man with that fellow — a white man.” 

“With the lame Indian?” queried Digby. 
“ Why, so there is ! Funny ! Can’t be one of the 
boys following us ? ” 

“Of course not. Nobody could follow us so 
fast on foot. There! They are staring after us. 
I never saw that man before; did you? ” 

“ I don’t remember. He’s not a miner — or, he 
isn’t in working togs. Give it up, Chet.” 

So did Chet. He had something much more im- 
portant to think of. While the men at the shaft of 
the Silent Sue were endeavouring to hoist out the 
rubbish that had fallen into the bottom of the shaft, 
the young chap believed there was a better chance 


32 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

to get into the lower tunnel of the mine by follow- 
ing the old drift of the abandoned diggings. 

In half an hour the two lads reached the mouth 
of the Crayton shaft. Neither of the boys had 
been this way for a year. 

Something had happened since their last visit to 
the spot. The old log windlass was overturned, 
and when they left their horses and ran to the mouth 
of the shaft they saw that a part of the shoring 
had given way and hundreds of tons of earth and 
rock had fallen into the pit, completely choking the 
way to the old mine. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE ROCKING STONE 

‘‘ Oh, Chet ! ” gasped Digby Fordham. “ This is 
awful! Isn’t there any other old mine that touches 
the Silent Sue’s tunnels? ” 

‘‘ Not that I ever heard of,” replied his chum 
seriously. This was only a chance, of course; but 
father spoke of this old mine so recently — ” 

Chet was staring about the opening in the forest. 
Like the place at which they had seen the lame 
Indian boy, it was an abandoned camp. Several 
other claims had been worked here; but the shafts 
of the other mines had caved in years and years 
before. 

There was something peculiar about the filling-in 
of the Crayton shaft. Chet began to scrutinise the 
vicinity — as Dig said, “ sniffing around like a 
hound on a cold scent.” 

“ No, sir ! ” muttered Chet. “ It is not a cold 
scent.” 

Heh ? ” growled Digby. 

‘‘ There’s been somebody here lately.” 


34 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ Well?’^ 

“ Here’s a campfire — fresh ashes. It rained 
three days ago. These ashes are perfectly dry and 
feathery. Never have been rained on.” 

Quite true! Good for ‘ Trailer Joe, the Young 
Scout of the Rockies,’ ” chuckled Dig. 

“ That’s all right. You can laugh,” said his 
chum. ‘‘ But I haven’t forgotten the things old 
Rafe has told us when we have been out hunting. 
It’s well to remember such things.” 

“ But what’s the good now ? ” demanded Dig. 
‘'We can’t get into the mine, and it doesn’t matter 
who was here before us. Unless you think there’s 
somebody gone down this shaft and the cave-in’s 
shut them down there,” he added quickly. 

“ I don’t believe that’s happened,” said Chet 
thoughtfully. He was walking around and around 
the mouth of the old shaft. He stopped and 
picked up the end of a tough, straight sapling. 

“Why the lever, I wonder?” Chet continued. 
“ It’s been used to pry something — The old wind- 
lass, of course. That windlass was knocked over 
purposely.” 

“ What for?” cried Dig. 

“I bet the cave-in was started with this lever. 


The Rocking Stone 35 

too. They pried out some of the heavy timbering. 
This old shaft was shored-up with oak and was a 
good job. You know that, Dig.” 

“ But I don’t know what you’re getting at,” 
answered Digby. 

‘‘I’m getting at just this: The mouth of this 
old mine was closed on purpose, and very recently.” 
“ Oh!” 

“ Somebody must have had a reason for doing 
this, though I don’t see what. And father was in- 
terested in the Crayton claim. I know that. He 
spoke of having got control of it at a low 
price.” 

“ Petered out before you and I were born, Chet,” 
cried Digby Fordham, with impatience. 

“ Perhaps. But father had a reason for getting 
hold of it. Perhaps he thought the pay-streak of 
our mine was leading this way.” 

“ Then he wouldn’t have caved in this shaft,” 
Dig said slowly. 

“No, no! Somebody else did it. I — don’t — 
see — ” 

“ Whew! ” ejaculated his chum, suddenly. “ By 
the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland! 
I know who did it, sure! ” 


36 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“Who?” queried the other boy wonderingly. 
“Who told us we couldn’t get into this shaft? 
Why, that lame Indian ! ” 

“John Peep?” muttered Chet. 

“ Yes ! Don’t you remember? ” 

“Of course he must have known the shaft was 
filled up,” agreed Chet Havens. “ But do you sup- 
pose he had anything to do with it? Why should 
he cave in the pit? ” 

“ Dunno,” grumbled Dig. “ But it looks funny. 
You don’t suppose one cave-in had anything to do 
with the other, do you? ” 

“Of course not!” exclaimed Chet. “Only, the 
Indian boy knew of 'this. He may have been over 
here recently. You can see that the marks on this 
sapling are fresh. Well, this isn’t going to help us 
any,” he added hopelessly. “We might as well go 
back. Oh dear. Dig! how will they get father and 
the boys out of tunnel Number Two? ” 

“ They’re working hard, Chet,” his chum said, 
trying to speak hopefully. “ We’d better go back, 
I expect.” 

“ Let’s breathe the horses a little,” proposed his 
friend. “ There’s no particular hurry, goodness 
knows! I hate to go back to Silver Run and tell 


The Rocking Stone 37 

mother just how the matter stands. It’s a terrible 
thing, Dig.” 

“ I know,” muttered his chum, and walked away, 
unable to talk about Mr. Havens’ peril in the caved- 
in mine. 

Dig walked to the brow of a sharp slope. The 
opening into the Crayton mine was on a small 
plateau, one side of which gave right up on the steep 
slope of the mountain. Landslides in the past had 
raked this side of the mountain quite bare. Here 
and there a ledge cropped out, or a boulder, in roll- 
ing down the slope, had found lodgment; the trees 
that had taken root in the thin soil were stunted 
and the bushes meagre. 

Digby rested a booted foot upon a boulder that 
hung poised upon the very edge of the plateau. He 
leaned forward to look down the hill, and as he did 
so he felt the huge stone tip forward. 

Whew ! ” he ejaculated, leaping back, expecting 
to see the boulder slide over the precipice. 

“What’s the matter, Dig?” demanded Chet, 
turning to look at him. 

“ Look there ! ” and the other pointed to the 
boulder, which, instead of slipping over the edge, 
rocked back into its bed, and dipped again and 


38 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

again while it gradually settled into its usual po- 
sition. 

“ A rocking stone/’ said Chet with a smile, see- 
ing that his chum was greatly excited. “What 
about it ? ” 

“ Whew ! ” and Dig expelled his breath as he 
frequently did to express emotion. “ I thought I 
was a goner. The old rock pitched forward as if it 
were going to dive right down the side of the 
mountain.” 

“If it ever does get the right push,” said Chet, 
looking down the slope, “ it will start something. 
It’s a big one — and if it hits that gully yonder,” 
pointing to a groove in the mountainside below, 
that marked the course of some ancient avalanche 
or watercourse, “ it will tear straight down to the 
foot of the mountain — and that’s ten miles. Dig, 
if it’s an inch.” 

“ Uh-huh ! ” admitted his chum. “ Be some ruc- 
tion. I’d like to see it.” 

He rested his weight on the rocking stone again 
and tried to throw it forward ; but its balance seemed 
perfect. Just the same, when they mounted their 
horses and took the back track for the Silent Sue, 
the rocking stone still was balancing to and fro as 


The Rocking Stone 39 

though about to plunge over the brink of the 
plateau. 

From the level of the caved-in shaft the boys 
descended a slanting path just within the border of 
the forest. Through openings in the trees on the 
right hand they occasionally caught a view of the 
avalanche-swept space which they had seen a few 
moments before from the higher level. 

Chet’s thought was naturally upon the trouble 
at the Silent Sue and his father’s fate; so it was 
Dig, usually the less observant, who stopped his 
mustang suddenly and put out a warning hand to 
his chum. 

Hey! look there! ” said Dig. 

Chet glanced out upon the barren mountainside. 
A figure was just coming into sight, walking up 
the gully. The sides of this gulch were so steep 
that the boys could see right down into it. 

“Lame John!” exclaimed Dig. “Now, what 
d’you suppose he’s followed us over here for? ” 

“ Maybe he didn’t follow us,” Chet said slowly. 
“ I reckon this side of the mountain is free, too.” 

“See him sneaking up?” growled Dig. “Of 
course he’s following us. He told us that old shaft 
was caved in — ” 


40 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ No. He only told us we couldn't get down 
into the mine by that shaft." 

‘‘ Well, he's followed us over to see what we are 
going to do about it — My glo-ree! Look at 
that!" 

There was reason for Digby Fordham's cry. 
With a smash and a rumble, the rocking stone 
pitched over the brink of the hill. Whatever had 
held it in its bed had broken away without warning 
and the huge rock commenced to descend the slope 
at a speed that momentarily increased. 

It was headed directly for the gully in which the 
lame Indian youth was walking. So steep were the 
sides of the gully, and so swiftly was the rock de- 
scending the hill, that it seemed impossible for the 
endangered Indian to escape. 

On the heels of Dig's cry, however, Chet Havens 
spurred his horse out into the open ground. He 
unslung the lariat from his saddle-bow as Hero 
galloped to the edge of the gully. 

Chet arrived there just as John Peep looked up 
and saw the thundering slab plunging down upon 
him. He might possibly escape it; then again he 
might be caught by it. The avalanche descending 
with the huge rock was of considerable compass. 


The Rocking Stone 41 

and even should the Indian youth try to scale the 
side of the gully, he might be swept away by some 
broken tree or the like. 

For the boulder was sweeping all before it. 
Dust rose in a cloud, and through that cloud, limbs 
of trees, brush, smaller stones, and other debris 
could be seen whirling. 

Chet paid little attention to it, however, as he 
was above the gully and was out of the course of 
the slide. But he doubted if the Indian lad could 
easily escape, and he sent the coils of his lariat 
whirling down into the hollow. 

‘‘ Catch hold and Fll haul you up ! yelled the 
white boy. 

The Indian could not possibly have heard him. 
By this time the roar of the landslide drowned all 
other sounds. The red youth, however, under- 
stood. 

He had already started to scramble up the high 
wall of the gully; but the climb was steep and diffi- 
cult. He seized upon the rope and Chet Havens 
leaped down from his saddle. 

Chet was a strong boy, despite his slender figure. 
He pulled in the rope, hand over hand, and 
swung the Indian youth, kicking now and then at 


42 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

the rocks, above and clear of the descending ava- 
lanche. 

Dig spurred his horse over to the place and 
leaped down to give his chum a helping hand. 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of 
Ireland!” he ejaculated. That redskin sure had 
a close shave, Chet ! What d’you know about it, old 
man? Whew!” 

Chet gave his hand to John Peep and helped him 
up to their level. The Indian youth was breath- 
less; but his countenance displayed no fear. He 
gazed down the gulch after the roaring landslide, 
and shook his head. 

“ Much danger in that,” he grunted. 

‘‘ You bet your life ! ” exclaimed the slangy 
Digby. ‘‘ You were never nearer the Happy Hunt- 
ing Grounds in your life.” 

John Peep turned sharply on Digby. ‘‘ You 
think it is funny to talk that way to me because I 
am an Indian,” he said. “ I do not believe in any 
Happy Hunting Grounds any more than you white 
boys believe you go to a Big Candy-Shop when you 
die. That is silly.” 

“Oh! Ugh!” gasped Dig, surprised. “All 
right. Needn’t get mad over it, old man.” 



Dig spurred his horse over to the place and 
leaped down to give his clinm a helping hand 




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The Rocking Stone 43 

With a gravity that seemed quite beyond his 
years, John Peep turned to Chet. He had not 
changed colour in the least, nor was he disturbed 
by his perilous adventure in any way. 

There were not many Indians about Silver Run; 
and those who were there were, as a rule, miserable 
creatures. Even this youth’s own family were 
hopeless, lazy and dirty in the extreme, prone to the 
use of '' white man’s firewater ” when they could 
get it. 

But John Peep was more like what an Indian 
should be — or so Chet Havens thought. He was 
odd; but the white boy liked him, and when John 
put out his hand Chet accepted it and shook it 
warmly. 

“You saved me. I will not forget. Thanks!” 
said the Indian lad. 

“ Don’t say anything more about it,” Chet said 
quickly. “You’d have done as much for me.” 

John Peep looked at him curiously for a moment. 
Digby, getting impatient, blurted out: 

“ Well! are we going to stay here all day? We 
might as well get back to the Silent Sue.” 

“ You knew the shaft up there was caved in,” 
Chet said to the Indian. “ How did it happen ? I 


44 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

wanted dreadfully to go down. I believe we could 
reach my father and the other men entombed in the 
Silent Sue through the old tunnel from the Crayton 
shaft.” 

“Can’t they be dug out through your shaft?” 
asked the Indian. 

“ I’m afraid it will take a week,” said Chet 
huskily. 

“Oh, come on, Chet!” exclaimed Dig sympa- 
thetically. “ Maybe some other way will turn up.” 

“ White boy know any other way ? ” queried 
John Peep quickly. 

“ No ; of course he doesn’t,” cried Chet. 
“ We’re at our wits’ end. There is an awful mass 
of stuff fallen into the Silent Sue shaft. As much 
as has fallen into this old shaft up yonder,” and he 
pointed up the hill. 

The Indian lad seemed to hesitate; but finally he 
turned and spoke directly to Chet again. 

“You come. Tie horses there,” pointing to the 
woods. “ I show you something. Be quick.” 

He started off abruptly, going toward the forest. 
Of course, he could not travel very fast because of 
his lameness. Chet and Dig looked at each other 
in both surprise and doubt. 


The Rocking Stone 45 

‘‘ What does he mean, d’you s’pose ? ’’ whispered 
Dig. 

I don’t know. But it won’t hurt to humour 
him,” returned his chum. 

To tell the truth, Chet Havens felt hope sud- 
denly aflame in his heart ; yet why, he could not tell. 


CHAPTER V 


THE bears’ den 

The lame Indian youth did not even look behind 
to see if he was followed. Digby Fordham was 
finally as much impressed as his chum. He jerked 
Hero’s reins out of Chet’s hand and led both mus- 
tangs into the shelter of the wood, where he tied 
them. 

Chet coiled the lariat up slowly; nor had he fol- 
lowed John Peep far when Dig rejoined him. 

Lucky I had this rope hung on the saddle-bow, 
wasn’t it ? ” Chet observed. 

“ Going to take it with you? ” queried his friend. 

Yes. It might come in handy again.” 

‘‘ Huh ! ” returned Dig. ‘‘ I’d rather have a gun 
along.” 

‘‘ What under the sun do you want a gun for ? ” 
asked Chet. 

“Well! you never know when you’re going to 
want a gun — up here in the mountain, anyway.” 

“Nonsense! You see that fellow isn’t armed,” 
pointing to the Indian. 


46 


The Bears’ Den 


47 

“ That’s his business,” said Dig doubtfully. 
“ You never know when you’re going to run into 
a mountain lion — ” 

“ Pshaw I ” exclaimed Chet Havens. We’re 
not looking for game.” 

“ And that’s just when we run into something, 
sure-pop ! ” 

Chet did not answer this. They were following 
hard on John Peep’s heels, who did not once look 
back to see if they were coming. He was leading 
them up the path which went to the abandoned mine 
where the shaft had been caved in by some mis- 
creant. 

At the level of the plateau on which the shaft 
was dug, the Indian lad struck off to the right, away 
from the Crayton shaft and toward the side of the 
mountain from which the white boys had ridden. 
There was good reason for John Peep’s having 
advised the tethering of the horses. This part of 
the forest was a dense jungle, never having been 
cleared. 

The trees were huge fellows, some of them 
scarred and riven by lightning-bolts. Man’s hand, 
since the beginning, had marked this forest but 
slightly. 


48 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

The ground was rocky, ledges and big boulders 
cropping out between the trees. It was really a 
mystery how the trees took root and held their foot- 
ing between the rocks. 

The Indian kept on up the hill, slanting ever to 
the right, away from the plateau. Suddenly Chet 
discovered that they were in a well-defined path; 
but it was not a man-made track — it was not even 
an Indian runway. 

It twisted and turned between the rocks and big 
trees, first going up, and then down, the hill. Chet 
turned to smile grimly at his friend. 

‘‘ Maybe you’ll wish you did have your gun. 
Dig,” he said. 

‘‘ Huh?” 

“ A bear made this path originally, I bet ! And 
many of his relatives have followed in the same 
track. This path leads right to an old den, or I’m 
much mistaken.” 

‘‘ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land!” ejaculated Digby Fordham. ‘‘I’m not 
going to stick my head into a bear’s lair. Friend- 
ship is all right, and fly-paper is no stickier than I 
am when it comes to being chums with a fellow; 
but don’t you think this is asking a deal too much ? ” 


The Bears’ Den 


49 

and Dig looked up at his chum with a very queer 
look on his face. 

Hush up and come on ! ” exclaimed Chet. “If 
John Peep isn’t scared, we can’t afford to be.” 

“ Why not ? ” demanded Dig. 

“ Because, in all likelihood, he thinks we are a 
couple of cowards — ” 

“ Whew ! After what you did for him? ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” said Chet. “ I helped him out of 
trouble; yes. But I didn’t get into a particle of 
danger myself — you know that.” 

“ I don’t see why that Indian should have a poor 
opinion of us,” growled Digby. 

“ Well, he has that air. He’s different from us,” 
said Chet, puzzled himself to explain just what he 
meant. “ But, you see, he acts like a grown man, 
while we’re only a couple of kids.” 

“ Whew! ” ejaculated Dig again, and with an air 
of doubting his chum’s statement. 

All this had been said in too low a tone to reach 
the ears of John Peep, who was some distance ahead 
of the white boys. Now Chet quickened his steps, 
and Dig came on, a little reluctantly. , 

The trio was approaching a mass of piled rock 
which was a landmark from the valley ten or twelve 


50 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

miles below. It was some distance above the level 
of the plateau on which was the Cra3rton shaft 
opening. 

The beaten path was unmistakably an animal 
trail; but John Peep went right ahead, entirely un- 
afraid. Secretly, Chet thought the path could not 
have been lately used by any of the species. 

And young Havens had something of much 
greater importance in his mind, too. He was vastly 
puzzled by John Peep’s behaviour. It seemed as 
though the young Indian must believe he could help 
them get at the miners entombed in the Silent Sue 
mine. Yet they were several miles from the claim 
of Chet’s father. 

The Indian boy’s seriousness had impressed Chet, 
however; the latter believed John to be quite incapa- 
ble of playing them any trick, when he had himself 
been so recently saved from the landslide. 

Gratitude, if not humanity, would surely inspire 
John Peep. He knew the two white boys were 
much exercised over the situation of the men buried 
in the Silent Sue mine. He could not be cruel 
enough to play any trick upon them! 

They rounded a big boulder at the foot of the 
piled rocks, and there beheld the dark mouth of the 


The Bears’ Den 


51 

bears’ den, low down on the ground. One had to 
get upon hands and knees to get into it. 

Whew ! ” exploded Digby again. ‘‘ Mebbe 
there aren’t any bears around, Chet; but I declare 
this is just the place for a lion. Remember that 
old scalawag we helped Rafe Peters to kill that 
time in Macomber’s wood-lot? Just such a place 
as this he had to hide in.” 

There’s no smell of a lion about,” declared 
Chet, yet with some anxiety. 

‘‘ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! ” cried Dig. ‘‘ I don’t trust to my nose when 
I’m around where mountain lions may be — no, 
sir! ” 

John Peep, who had said nothing, looked at 
Digby, however, with open scorn. 

‘‘ White boy maybe scared, huh ? ” he grunted. 

This old den.” 

That’s all right, that’s all right,” Dig returned 
airily. But some stray creature might have gone 
in there since you were here last. And what are 
we going in for, anyway? ” 

You stay here. Havens come,” said John 
Peep, with deep disgust, and at once dropped to his 
knees. 


52 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

But Digby wouldn’t hear of being separated from 
his chum. ‘‘You bet I’m going in there if Chet 
does, John ! You can put that in your pipe-of-peace 
and smoke it! If there’s anything going to chew 
Chet up, his second mouthful will be little old me — 
and I bet I don’t set well on his stomach, either! 
Lead on ! ” 

“ Umph ! ” was John Peep’s only comment. 

“ I don’t know what you fellows are aiming at,” 
growled Dig, getting down on all fours to follow 
Chet, “ but I’m in on it, whatever it is.” 

Chet looked over his shoulder to admonish his 
chum. 

“ Don’t anger him. I believe he can help us. I 
wish we’d brought that pick and shovel we carted up 
here on our horses.” 

“What for?” cried Digby. 

“ I believe we may have use for them.” 

“ Well, I suppose we could make some kind of a 
showing in fighting a mountain lion if we had a pick 
and shovel. But they’d come in better to bury him 
with after we’d killed him,” commented his chum. 

The Indian lad went ahead and the chums scram- 
bled after him into the bears’ den. The passage — 
the sides of which they could easily touch with their 


The Bears’ Den 


53 

outstretched hands — was as black as the inside of 
a coal-chute; and it inclined sharply like a chute, 
too. 

The passage seemed to be straight, and the chums 
heard nothing but an occasional grunt from John 
Peep, who had difficulty in crawling with his crip- 
pled leg. 

Chet scrambled along after the Indian, and Digby 
Fordham, to be sure of his chum’s position, grabbed 
him by the ankle. , 

Stop pulling my leg. Dig ! ” cried Chet, his voice 
sounding muffled and strange in the subterranean 
passage. 

‘‘ I’ve got to grab you once in a while to make 
sure you’re here,” said Dig. “ It’s as dark in here 
as the pants’ pocket of a negro, stealing chickens in 
the dark of the moon ! ” 

Stop your joking, and come on,” commanded 
Chet. 

Oh ! you can’t lose me, boy,” returned his chum. 
“ At least, you won’t lose me in this hole. I’m keep- 
ing right after you. There ! Tag ! you’re it again.” 

John Peep grunted — whether in disgust at Dig’s 
nonsense or not — and stopped. The white boys 
were right behind him. They waited, asking no 


54 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

question, and soon heard the Indian boy scratch a 
match. 

At the second scrape of the match the light flashed 
up. They saw him light a candle in a rude tin 
lantern. It was plain it had been made by punch- 
ing holes in the sides of a half gallon bean can. 
But crude as the lantern was, its glow dissipated the 
darkness. 

‘‘ Whew ! ’’ came from Digby. What do you 
know about this hole, Chet? Look out! If you 
ever slip over the edge of it you’ll be a long time 
getting back to the top.” 

But Chet gave him slight attention. He was 
peering into the shaft that here opened in the floor 
of the cavern. The lantern light showed that the 
walls of the shaft were rough; indeed, there were 
natural steps in it. 

But a new rope had been fastened to a heavy 
beam laid across the mouth of the pit ; and there were 
knots every two feet or so in the rope, to aid one 
in descending and ascending the shaft. 

Chet turned eagerly to ask the Indian lad : 

Does it lead into the tunnel from the Crayton 
shaft?” 

“Yes,” John Peep replied, simply. 


The Bears’ Den 


55 

“ Say ! no miner ever dug this ! cried Digby 
Fordham. 

“Of course not! It’s an old watercourse. 
That’s plain enough. Long before it was a bears’ 
den the water bored this passage in the rock, found 
this shaft, and through it reached some subter- 
ranean stream.” 

“ Whew I ” whistled Dig. “ And who put the 
rope here? Not this Indian, I bet a cookie.” 

“ White boys ask no questions, I tell no lies,” said 
John Peep succinctly. 

“ Well ! we’ve got no business to ask questions,” 
declared Chet quickly, before his chum could say 
anything to anger John Peep. “ We’re sure obliged 
to you for showing us this place.” 

“ Come on. Dig. I bet this leads down to the 
very tunnel from the Crayton shaft that father spoke 
about. Oh, my! if it enables us to get into the Si- 
lent Sue and get father and the boys out — ” 

“ All right. Lead ahead,” interrupted Dig. 
“ I’m game if you are.” 


CHAPTER VI 


IN THE OLD TUNNEL 

The lame Indian youth had no idea of giving up 
the leadership of the expedition. He grunted, and 
pushed Chet’s hand away when the white boy 
reached to take the rudely-made lantern by its bail. 

‘‘ Me go first,” he said with confidence, and im- 
mediately swung himself over the edge of the rock. 

In spite of his crippled leg, John Peep went down 
the rough rocks quickly, clinging with one hand to 
the knotted rope, the bail of the lantern swung over 
his other arm. 

‘‘ He must have been often down this shaft,” 
thought Chet to himself; but said nothing to Dig 
Fordham. He only wondered why the Indian had 
often descended this shaft into the heart of the 
mountain. 

John Peep raised his face and spoke from the 
depths : 

“ Havens follow — ’bout ten yards ; then other 
white boy come ten yards further back. Rope plenty 
strong.” 


56 


In the Old Tunnel 


57 

“ All right ! responded Chet cheerily. We’re 
after you.” 

“ Whew ! ” whistled Digby. “If that rope 
should break we’d be after him with a venge- 
ance ! ” 

The descent of the shaft was no easy matter, as 
the two chums from Silver Run quickly learned. 
Three bearing their weight upon it made the rope 
jerk and wriggle like an excited snake. Both Chet 
and Dig were several times almost thrown from 
their footing on the rough rock. 

“You’re rocking the boat, Chet; look out!” 
grumbled Dig. “ I expect to make a dive over your 
head any moment. Ugh I that’s wriggly ! ” 

“ Hang on, old man ! ” called back Chet. “ That’s 
the best I can tell you.” 

The walls of the shaft, however, did make a nat- 
ural stairway ; and at a pinch one might have climbed 
down and up again without recourse to the knotted 
rope. However, the rope enabled the boys to swing 
from side to side of the shaft, as the footing seemed 
better. 

John Peep’s lantern cast sufficient light upward 
for the chums to see where they stepped. Indeed, 
all the light from the candle flickered on the walls 


58 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

above the descending Indian; the bottom of the pit 
was in utter darkness. 

It was a slow descent, as was natural, and the 
shaft was very deep. As they had climbed so much 
higher than the plateau where the Crayton shaft was 
sunk, naturally this pit must be much deeper if it 
reached the old tunnel in which the Crayton gold 
vein had petered out in the old gold-mining days. 

It was gruesome, too. Even Dig Fordham 
seemed to have lost his voice at the top of the shaft. 
An occasional grunt from John Peep was all the 
vocal sound that was made by the three for some 
time. 

The white boys’ leather-shod feet scraping the 
rocks was the principal sound, for the Indian’s tread 
in his moccasins was silent. 

This continued until finally Dig could restrain 
himself no longer. 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! How long’s this going to keep up ? Is that 
Indian going to keep climbing down this hole for- 
ever?” 

‘‘ Hush, Dig ! ” commanded Chet. 

“ I did not make the place,” said John Peep, with 


In the Old Tunnel 


59 

scorn. “ White boy scared — he’d better have 
stayed out. Havens come. He not scared.” 

I’m not scared ! ” yelled Dig, his voice booming 
in the shaft. “ By the last hoptoad — ” 

‘‘ And that’s silly,” interrupted John Peep quickly. 

There is a legend to the effect that St. Patrick 
drove all the reptilian species out of Ireland; but it 
is doubtful if the eviction included the so-called’ 
common, or garden, toad.” 

Whew ! ” gasped Dig. Did you hear that, 
Chet?” 

His chum was chuckling and did not answer. 
Dig tried to treat John Peep as though he were an 
uneducated “blanket Indian,” as the uncultivated 
redmen were called. But John Peep had been some 
years at school and was notably the brightest scholar 
in his class. 

Why he had taken to the woods and preferred to 
live in the wilderness, now that vacation had begun, 
Chet could only surmise. 

It was just then that the Indian reached the bot- 
tom of the shaft. Or, rather, he reached the place 
where a hole was broken through the wall into the 
tunnel from the Crayton shaft. 


6o The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Here a circular cavern had been hollowed out in 
past ages by the falling water; the subterranean 
stream finding an outlet at one side, where another 
pit dropped away into the heart of the mountain to 
an unknown depth. 

The circular cavern was a most beautiful place, 
crystal stalactites hanging from its arched roof, 
while pointed stalagmites were strewn over the floor. 

It had been, however, many, many years since 
there had been a particle of moisture in this cavern. 
There was a good current of air, and it was dry. 

All this the white boys discovered when they 
reached the end of the rope and stood beside the In- 
dian. Chet turned almost immediately to the cavity 
into the mining tunnel. It had been recently dug, 
without a doubt, for there were bright scales of 
quartz rock lying about and a pile of freshly exca- 
vated earth. 

“Whew!” muttered Dig in Chet’s ear. “I’d 
really like to know who did this, wouldn’t you ? ” 

“ It wasn’t my father. I’ll be bound,” responded 
Chet, in the same tone. “ There must be somebody 
interested in the old Crayton diggings besides him. 
Hush!” 

John Peep came back to them. He brought a pick 


In the Old Tunnel 


6i 


and shovel from some hiding place in the darker end 
of the cavern. To all appearances they were new 
implements. 

White boys want to dig into other mine/’ he 
said briefly. “ You come. I show.” 

“ Heap good,” grunted Dig, with a grin. 

But the Indian paid him no attention, merely 
handing him the shovel, . while he gave the pickaxe 
to Chet. Then he stooped to crawl into the newly- 
excavated passage. 

Dig looked at Chet and scratched his head. 

What gets my goat,” he muttered, ‘‘ is how that 
redskin talks one minute like a college professor 
and the next like Poor Lo with his face painted and 
a dirty blanket trailing at his heels. What do you 
think of him, anyway ? ” 

I think he has saved the lives of father and the 
men with him,” replied Chet earnestly. Come on. 
Dig! We’re going to get them out.” 

Only a thin shell of earth and rock separated the 
bottom of the shaft down which the trio had come 
from the old mining tunnel. Whoever had burst 
the wall through must have known just where the 
tunnel lay and must have been aware of its nearness 
to the ancient watercourse. 


62 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

The loose earth was dropping in this short pas- 
sage; but the drift from the Crayton shaft was well 
timbered with hewn oak. A single wide plank had 
been knocked out of the shoring to make an en- 
trance into the tunnel. 

Down here in the heart of the mountain the 
planking had neither rotted nor become dry and 
punky. The timbers all seemed just as good as 
when the miners had put them in. 

“ Come on, Dig ! ” repeated Chet, hurrying along 
the tunnel. ‘'We can't get them out any too 
quickly.” 

“Where are you going to dig?” queried his 
chum. 

“ Right at the end, of course. Father said he 
thought the Number Two tunnel of the Silent Sue 
passed by the end of this drift.” 

John Peep said nothing, but held the lantern and 
let Chet and Dig take the lead. They came to the 
end of the old passage after walking some distance. 
Here some recent excavating had undoubtedly been 
done. There was no rubbish in the way and they 
could attack at once the end wall. 

The roof of the tunnel was a great slab of rock. 
The old method of “ timbering in square sets ” had 


In the Old Tunnel 


63 

been used in the Crayton claim, and the square 
cribs, filled with waste rock, upheld the roof of these 
workings. 

What puzzled Chet was the identity of the person 
who had been so recently working at the end of this 
abandoned timnel. 

What was he working here for ? ” demanded 
Dig. “ There’s no sign of silver that I can see.” 

Both boys thought that they knew a good deal 
about pay ore, both gold and silver. They were so 
much about their fathers’ mine, and had heard so 
much miners’ talk, and had seen so many specimens 
of ore, that they felt they were not to be easily 
fooled. 

John Peep had nothing to say and the expression 
on his face did not invite questions. 

Chet and Digby threw off their coats and set to 
work. Chet first swung the pick, while Dig shov- 
elled the earth away. In five minutes Chet’s pick 
rang on a rock in the wall. 

Hello ! ” exclaimed his chum. ‘‘ Did you hear 
that? ” 

‘‘ I hit a rock.” 

“And somebody hallooed,” declared his chum, 
with confidence. 


64 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ Was it a voice ? Do you think so ? ’’ cried the 
excited Chet. ‘‘ So soon ? 

“ I bet you ! was the answer. 

Chet attacked the wall with renewed courage. 
The earth and small stones rattled down faster than 
Dig could shovel the rubbish aside. 

“ Hold on ! hold on ! gasped Dig. “ Let’s take 
a breath. You’ll bury us both in this stuff, Chet. 
Wait till I shout again.” 

‘‘ Go ahead ! ” panted his chum, quite breathless. 

Digby raised his voice as loudly as possible. Im- 
mediately there was an answer — unmistakably a 
human voice ! 

“ They’re in there — and they are alive ! ” cried 
Chet, half sobbing. Come on, Dig ! maybe some 
of them are hurt! I want to hear my father’s 
voice 1 ” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE RESCUE AND AFTERWARD 

The two boys went at the task of digging into the 
other mine with renewed vigour. A murmur of 
sound came through the intervening wall of earth 
— unmistakably the voices of the entombed miners. 

Hurrah ! ’’ cheered Digby Fordham. “ They 
hear us ! 

Chet’s heart was too full for him to speak. He 
worked at the wall of dirt and small stones furiously, 
and without regard to the bringing down of a possi- 
ble avalanche upon his own and Digby’s heads. 

John Peep stood back and held the lantern so that 
they could see. He did not say a word after the 
chums began this second attack upon the wall. 

Again the muffled shouts were heard. The 
chums replied — screaming at the very tops of their 
voices. A mass of earth fell inward. 

‘‘ They are digging too ! Keep it up, Chet,” called 
out his chum. 

“ I’m — getting — wind — ed ! ” gasped Chet, 

65 


66 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ Let me take hold there! ’’ cried the sturdy Dig. 
“You take the shovel.’’ 

They exchanged implements, and the furious ex- 
cavating went on for several minutes. They were 
making a round hole about breast high in the wall 
of the tunnel. The noise of their own pick and 
shovel drowned other sounds. Suddenly the pick- 
axe in Dig’s hands clashed with another iron im- 
plement wielded by somebody on the other side of 
the wall! 

“ Hurrah! ” cried Dig Fordham. “ We’ve found 
’em, Chet ! ” 

Another mass of earth fell in and the boys saw 
a light twinkling ahead of them. 

“ Is that you. Father? ” called Chet Havens. 

“Is that you, my boy? Well, well!” exclaimed 
the jolly voice of Mr. Havens, and it was filled with 
pride. “ It didn't take you two boys long to find us, 
did it?” 

“ And John Peep, the Cheyenne,’^ returned Chet. 
“ He did more than we.” 

But when he turned to look at the Indian youth, 
he was not there. With his lantern he had stolen 
away the moment he saw through the broken wall 
that the entombed miners had lamps. 


The Rescue — and Afterward 67 

‘‘We have been trying to hit that old tunnel you 
are in, boys, for hours,” pursued Mr. Havens, as 
the men broke down the barrier between the two 
mines, and swiftly cleared the earth and rock away. 
“We knew we could escape through the Crayton 
shaft if once we could hit the old drift.” 

“But you couldn’t. Father! exclaimed Chet 
eagerly. 

“ Why not. Son ? ” demanded the gentleman, who 
still remained back in the darkness while his men 
worked. 

“ Because the shaft is caved in.” 

“ What’s that ? ” queried Mr. Havens quickly, and 
with some anxiety in his tone. “ It was all right a 
week ago, for I saw it.” 

“ Somebody has pried out some of the timbering 
and caused a cave-in. It’s as bad as the one in our 
shaft. Father.” 

“Well! I declare!” 

“ Say ! I bet that lame Indian knows who did it,” 
growled Dig, resting on his pick. “ But he won’t 
tell.” 

“ Then how, for mercy’s sake, did you get down 
here, will you tell me?” cried Mr. Havens, much 
astonished. 


68 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ Through an old bears’ den that John Peep 
showed us.” 

‘‘John Peep? That young Indian lad that went 
to school with you, Chetwood, and was so clever at 
his books? ” 

“ Yes, sir. He was with us until just a minute 
or two ago. Now he’s gone away — so as not to 
be thanked, I suppose. He’s a good fellow,” de- 
clared Chet confidently. 

“ He surely is a good fellow if he showed you how 
to get down here to our rescue,” agreed Mr. Havens. 
“ But I must look into this strange cave-in of the 
Crayton shaft. It’s a most mysterious thing. Peo- 
ple don’t go around closing old mines for nothing; 
unless it’s mischievous boys.” 

“ ’Twasn’t me!” denied Dig emphatically. 

“You’re not the only mischievous young scamp 
there is in Silver Run,” chuckled Mr. Havens. 
“ Well, boys — how is it ? Can we crawl through ? ” 

“ You come along and try it, Boss. Easy on that 
foot, now ! ” said one of the miners solicitously. 

“ Oh, Father ! are you hurt ? ” cried Chet, in sud- 
den anxiety. 

“ Not so much but I shall get over it,” replied Mr. 
Havens, hobbling through the aperture between the 


The Rescue — and Afterward 69 

two mines. Now, Jackson, you’re in charge of 
the work on this drift. Just as soon as you can get 
to it from our end, build a bulkhead of heavy tim- 
bering across this hole. We don’t want any connec- 
tion between the two mines.” 

“ All right, sir,” agreed the man spoken to, and 
who followed Mr. Havens first into the old Crayton 
mine. 

‘‘ Oh, Father ! ” exclaimed Chet again, seeing that 
Mr. Havens’ right foot was bandaged, and that his 
boot had been cut away; “ are you sure you are not 
badly hurt?” 

“ There may be a small bone or two broken,” his 
father said ; “ but that’s all. I reckon I’ll be on a 
crutch for a while. I won’t be able to ride at all for 
some weeks. And that is going to be unhandy,” he 
added, “ for I’ve got an errand at Grub Stake — 
and a mighty important errand, too.” 

Chet made no comment upon this last statement, 
for he knew his father had spoken to himself rather 
than to anybody else. It appeared that Mr. Havens 
had been hurt at the time of the blast. 

“ And it was that Tony Traddles’ fault,” declared 
one of the men. “ He just naturally lied about that 
timbering being all right. She shook right down 


70 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

when the shot went off, and the boss got the end 
of a beam on his foot/^ 

“ Tony’d ought to be thrashed!” exclaimed an- 
other of the miners. 

“ He’ll lose his job, and that right suddenly,” de- 
clared Mr. Havens. I won’t trust a man like him 
around the Silent Sue.” 

The miners had several lamps and it was easy 
now to find the small hole into the circular cavern 
at the bottom of the shaft. Here the light sparkled 
beautifully upon the pendants from the cavern roof, 
and showed as well the knotted rope hanging from 
the beam laid across the mouth of the shaft. 

Looks as if it was going to be a tug getting 
you up that hole. Boss,” said Jackson. ‘‘ We’d bet- 
ter go up first and then raise you in a sling.” 

“ I’ve got a good rope for that,” cried Chet. 

You’ll find it right at the top of that shaft — un- 
less it’s been removed since Dig and I came down.” 

“ We’ll rig up something to help him, never fear,” 
declared Jackson, who was the first to climb the shaft 
with the aid of the knotted rope. He carried a 
miner’s lamp with him, and the boys and Mr. Havens 
sat down and watched the spark of the lamp as it 
wavered back and forth up the shaft. 


The Rescue — and Afterward 71 

The other four men started in succession after 
the mine boss. Mr. Havens questioned the boys 
regarding their adventures since the accident at the 
Silent Sue shaft. He was much interested in the 
condition of the Crayton shaft, and in the Indian 
boy’s knowledge of this new entrance into the old 
gold diggings. 

“Beats me!” was his puzzled comment. Then 
he continued: 

“ I want to get to Grub Stake in a hurry, and here 
I am laid up with a lame leg. It’s important for me 
to see old John Morrisy, who was one of the orig- 
inal owners of this Crayton mine. He has agreed 
to sell me his share, and I need it to get control of 
the mine. Why I want control is a secret. 

“ Now, it looks to me,” pursued Mr. Havens 
thoughtfully, “ as though somebody else was anxious 
to get the Crayton mine — or to stop me from get- 
ting it. I don’t know which. 

“ I don’t care so much about the old shaft’s being 
closed. Maybe that is a good thing, all things con- 
sidered. But I must get the deeds to John Morrisy 
and have him put his mark on them before a Justice 
of the Peace. This lame foot is going to trouble 
me a whole lot — 


72 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“Hi! there’s Jackson hallooing. Ay, ay! we 
hear you,’" answered Mr. Havens, and scrambled to 
his feet again. 

A noose was let down from a ledge some distance 
up the shaft, and into this Mr. Havens placed his 
uninjured foot. The men above raised him to the 
shelf, and then they climbed up to another wide foot- 
ing and swung Mr. Havens up to their level, this 
being repeated until he was finally raised to the top 
of the shaft. 

Behind him Chet and Dig climbed, and they were 
all finally in the bears’ den. They found no sign of 
John Peep either in the den or after they came out 
upon the mountainside. 

“ It certainly is good to be out of that mine, 
boys!” declared Mr. Havens. “We’ll surprise old 
Rafe and Mr. Fordham, I surmise, when we arrive 
at the Silent Sue.” 

“ We’ll surprise Tony Traddles,” growled Jack- 
son. “ I’d like to get my paws on to him.” 

“ You leave him to me,” Mr. Havens advised him. 
“ Now, Chet, you say you’ve a horse near. Maybe 
you can boost me on to him, and we’ll go over to the 
Silent Sue. Let me lean on your shoulder, boy.” 

Chet did as he was told, and as he walked beside 


The Rescue — and Afterward 73 

his father down the mountainside he added some 
details about John Peep and the mystery of the 
caved-in Crayton shaft. He also told Mr. Havens 
of seeing the strange white man with the Indian 
youth as he and Dig rode over from the Silent 
Sue. 

“ Who did he look like? ’’ queried Mr. Havens. 

“ Nobody I ever saw around here before,” Chet 
replied. 

‘‘ Well, it’s a puzzle,” muttered his father. ‘‘ And 
somehow those papers have got to be carried to John 
Morrisy. The old man’s funny. Something might 
happen to him. I shan’t feel safe till our contract 
is fulfilled.” 

Chet knew that his father was not speaking di- 
rectly to him; so he remained silent. But he kept 
up a tremendous thinking. He wanted to get his 
chum off to one side and talk over a most wondrous 
idea that had come to him. 

They found the two horses safely tethered where 
Dig had left them, and Mr. Havens was helped into 
the saddle of the bay horse without much difficulty. 
Hero was willing to walk if so commanded, there- 
fore Chet’s father could ride without being badly 
shaken. His injured foot gave him great pain; 


74 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

yet he insisted upon going around by his mine before 
descending the mountain to Silver Run. 

The other men who had been shut in the mine 
tramped on ahead, and as the boys led their horses 
they did not catch up with the five miners on their 
way to the mine. Besides they were delayed. 

As they approached the clearing in which John 
Peep had first appeared to Chet and Digby, the trio 
smelled smoke. 

Maybe we’ll find the Indian here,” suggested 
Dig. “ Whew ! I hope he has supper ready. I’m 
starved right now, if any one should ask you.” 

“ That’s more than a campfire! ” exclaimed Chet 
suddenly. “Hear the flames crackling?” 

“ I hope the fellow hasn’t set the woods afire. 
Indians are so careless,” said Mr. Havens. 

“ Oh ! I’m sure John isn’t that kind of an Indian,” 
said Chet. 

They came in sight of the abandoned mining 
camp the next moment. The interior of the sheet- 
iron shack which the Indian youth had occupied was 
afire. 

Smoke and yellow flames poured from the door 
of the shack. It was evident that the boy’s outfit 
was being destroyed. 


The Rescue — and Afterward 75 

Dig tossed Poke’s reins to Chet to hold and ran 
over to the burning structure. The sides of the 
shack were red-hot, and he could not get near to it ; 
but with a long pole he managed to poke something 
out of the fire. 

Hi ! ” he yelled, trying to hold this object up 
by its bail. “ Nobody home but the beans — and 
they’re canned! Heap big Injun live on white 
man’s grub just the same! ” 

‘‘ Stop, Dig! ” commanded Chet. “ Suppose John 
should hear you? And he did us a mighty big 
favour.” 

Oh, he isn’t aroimd,” declared Dig. ‘‘ Think 
he’d let his outfit burn up like this ? ” 

“ Who did burn it ? ” asked Mr. Havens. ‘‘ Looks 
odd to me. Of course the Indian boy wouldn’t de- 
stroy his own property.” 

‘‘ I wonder where John went to when he left us 
so suddenly in that mine,” Chet remarked. 

‘‘ He flew the coop, and that’s a fact! ” said ‘Dig. 
“ But I couldn’t guess where he went to. It’s pretty 
safe to say he did not come this way.” 

“ That’s so,” agreed Chet. “ But I would like 
to see him; wouldn’t you. Father? ” 

‘‘ Most certainly,” said Mr. Havens. “ Perhaps 


76 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

we might do something to help the lad. If he has 
lost his outfit — ” 

That white man ! exclaimed Chet, interrupting. 

“ Hel-lo ! ” said Mr. Havens. 

“ What white man ? asked Dig, in surprise. 

What are you dreaming about, Chet ? '' 

“ No dream,” said Chet, shaking his head. “ But 
we saw a stranger talking with John Peep right 
here; you remember. Dig?” 

‘‘Sure. What of it?” 

“ Maybe he was the fellow who caved in the Cray- 
ton shaft. And maybe he didn’t want anybody to 
know about that old bears’ den entrance to the mine. 
See?” 

“Just as clear as mud,” grunted Digby, shaking 
his head, while Mr. Havens chuckled. 

“ Maybe you think it’s far-fetched. Father,” Chet 
urged earnestly. “ But perhaps because the Indian 
showed us the way to get you and the boys out, that 
white man came back here and burned his stuff.” 

“ That’s a good deal of villainy,” said his father, 
ruffling the boy’s hair with a kindly hand. “ You’ve 
a great imagination, Chetwood.” 

So Chet felt rather abashed and said nothing 
further about the mystery as they went on toward 


The Rescue — and Afterward 77 

the Silent Sue. He was convinced, however, that 
John Peep had got into trouble because of the help 
he had given them. 

It was evident as they progressed that Mr. 
Havens was experiencing considerable pain from his 
bruised foot; yet he was troubled more because of 
his inability to get to Grub Stake than because of 
the injury itself. Chet wanted to say something 
right then; but he scarcely dared. 

They came to the Silent Sue shaft at length. The 
five men running ahead had announced the joyful 
rescue, and the crowd that was gathered around 
the shaft welcomed Mr. Havens and the boys with 
loud cheers. A man started immediately for the 
town to inform Mrs. Havens of the rescue. 

One man stood apart from the others. Plis face 
was ugly and morose of expression. He was a 
bewhiskered man. His beard had once been red, 
but was faded and tobacco stained. 

His arms were so long that when he stood with 
his shoulders sagged a little, as they were habitually, 
his great, ham-like hands hung to his knees. His 
face and arms were tanned to the colour of old 
leather, the skin looking quite as tough. 

Altogether, Tony Tr addles was not a pleasant 


78 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

person to look at. Now he was particularly offen- 
sive in appearance. He was alone while the crowd 
of miners and their wives were congratulating each 
other upon the escape of the entombed men from 
the mine. 

Tony Traddles looked as though he would not 
have cared if Mr. Havens and the other five men 
had stayed down in the shaft forever. 


CHAPTER VIII 


CHET SHOOTS A HAWK 

Mr. Fordham had run forward to meet his part- 
ner and shake him by the hand. 

''I’m mighty glad to see you, Jim!” he said, 
assisting Chet’s father to the ground. " The boys 
say you’ve hurt your foot. Is it bad ? ” 

" Bad enough,” answered Mr. Havens, with much 
disgust, and standing like a stork on one leg until 
they brought him a stool to sit upon. "It’s going 
to keep me from going over to Grub Stake, Ford- 
ham, as I had planned.” 

" Well, well ! I’m glad you’re out of that hole. 
That’s enough to be joyful over. We’ll worry 
about the other thing later. What about that 
scamp yonder?” and Mr. Fordham swung about to 
point at the ugly, gorilla-like man who stood at one 
side, sucking on the stem of an old pipe. 

"Tony Traddles? Let him go — and let him 
go quick, Fordham,” replied Mr. Havens earnestly, 
with a glance around at the rough men. 

79 


8o The Trail Boys of the Plains 

I was tempted to have him jailed. A constable 
was up here/’ said Mr. Fordham. 

''No use. We couldn’t prove anything more 
than malicious mischief — and we’d have hard work 
to do that, I think. But it’s only by the mercy of 
Heaven that he hasn’t the lives of six men upon his 
conscience.” 

" Ha ! ” snapped Dig’s father. “ That fellow 
has no conscience.” Then he raised his voice : 
" Come here, you Tony! ” 

The ugly-looking man shuffled over to his em- 
ployers. He looked sheepish as well as ugly, and 
still pulled furiously at his old pipe. 

" Well, Tony, you played us a bad trick that 
time,” said Mr. Havens quietly. " You knew when 
I asked you if the timbering was secure that you 
had not wedged your cross-beams. Your neglect 
came near costing six lives. We cannot have you 
work on the Silent Sue any longer. Mr. Fordham 
will give you your time and money, and you can 

go- 

" I dunno what I done,” growled Tony, in a much 
injured tone. " I couldn’t help the shaft caving in.” 

" You know it wouldn’t have caved if you had 


Chet Shoots a Hawk 8i 

done your work properly/’ said Mr. Fordham 
sharply. 

I could have forgiven you for that/’ Mr. Hav- 
ens hastened to say. But your falsehood led us 
to suppose that it was safe to fire the shot. That 
is your crime, Tony — the misstatement of fact.” 

‘‘Aw, yer both down on me,” growled Tony 
Traddles. “ I might as well take my time and 
beat it.” 

“You might just as well, I think,” said Dig’s 
father grimly. “ Here’s your money. Count it. 
Sign here in the book. Now be off — for your own 
good ; for let me tell you the men who worked with 
you don’t feel very kindly toward you.” 

“Aw, let ’em blow! I ain’t afraid of ’em,” 
growled Tony Traddles. 

The boys had been watching Tony and the mine 
owners, but from such a distance that they could 
not hear the conversation. They heard the men 
talking, however — the men who had been thrown 
out of work for several days because of Tony’s 
carelessness. 

Chet, after listening to several threats, looked 
about for Dig. The latter had gone to Rafe Peters’ 


82 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

shack for a sandwich. Young Fordham had al- 
ready expressed himself as being ‘‘ half starved.” 
He was not used to going without his dinner. 

‘‘ Hi, Dig! ” shouted Chet, beckoning to his chum. 

‘‘ Now, don’t ask for the core,” mumbled Dig, 
with his mouth full. ‘‘ There ain’t going to be no 
core. Ask Rafe for a hand-out yourself.” 

‘‘ Don’t think everybody is as greedy as you are,” 
said Chet. “ Come on here. I believe there is 
going to be trouble.” 

He said the last in a low voice after his chum had 
reached his side. 

What d’you mean — trouble ? ” queried Dig. 

“The men are dreadfully sore on Tony Trad- 
dles.” 

“ And why shouldn’t they be? ” demanded Digby. 
“ He’d ought to be tarred and feathered.” 

“Sh! Some of them might hear you.” 

“ And I should worry about that ! ” cried Dig 
slangily. 

“ There’s something going to happen to Tony, I 
do believe,” whispered Chet. “ You see, your 
father’s paid him. Now he’s going up the hill. 
And a bunch of the men hurried over behind that 
hill a few minutes ago.” 


Chet Shoots a Hawk 83 

“ Whew ! ’’ exclaimed Dig. ‘‘ Maybe — maybe 
they’re going to lynch him ! ” 

Don’t talk so foolishly ! ” cried Chet. These 
miners aren’t murderers, I should hope! Why — 
there’s Bob Fane, and Jeffers, and Ike Pilsbury. 
Why, we know most all of them! They’re decent 
men and wouldn’t kill even Tony.” 

Dig chuckled. “ Guess you think he deserves it, 
whatever they do to him ? ” he suggested. 

Come on ! Father and your father are busy. I 
want to see if they do get Tony Traddles,” Chet 
said eagerly, and set off for the grove of trees di- 
rectly above the mouth of the mine that had been 
caved in because of Tony Traddles’ negligence. 

The men had melted away from about the shaft. 
Even Rafe Peters, the foreman, had disappeared. 
Mr. Havens and Mr. Fordham were busy at the 
corrugated iron shack that served as an office. The 
women and children had taken their recovered hus- 
bands and fathers home; it was only the younger 
and more irresponsible element of the Silent Sue 
workmen that had gone over the hill. 

And in their tracks sped the two chums. Chet 
and Dig were both eager and curious. They saw 
the bewhiskered and long-armed Tony Traddles 


84 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

staggering along the rough trail over the hill, oc- 
casionally turning to shake his hairy fist in the di- 
rection of the mine. He was probably muttering 
threats, too, against the mine and its owners. 

The boys had taken a shorter path over the rise ; 
besides, they were running. But the miners who 
had been associated with Tony had got over the hill 
first. They were hidden in the chaparral on the 
edge of the trail Tony was following, and when he 
came down the slope they sprang out and sur- 
rounded him. 

Chet and Digby could not hear what was said at 
first; but Tony began to show fight almost at once. 
He was no coward. 

The miners rushed in on him, tied his wrists to- 
gether, and amid a great deal of noise and some 
laughter, hoisted him upon a fence-rail which four 
of them carried on their shoulders. His ankles 
were then triced together. His helplessness made 
him ridiculous. 

‘‘Oh, bully!” cried Dig, in delight. “That 
serves him right 1 ” 

“ I wish they hadn't done it,” said Chet. 
“ They're going to ride him over the mountain.” 

“ Sure they are ! And they are going to warn 


Chet Shoots a Hawk 85 

him not to come back/’ said Dig, “ Serves him 
just right, I tell you.” 

“ But suppose he does something to get square ? ” 
breathed Chet, much excited as well as anxious. 

Pooh ! what could he do ? ” returned Dig. ‘‘ He 
may as well go out and hunt for that big buffalo 
he was telling us about. I don’t believe Tony Tr ad- 
dles would know a buffalo if he met one in his 
soup.” . 

“ What a ridiculous thing, Dig,” said Chet. 
‘‘ And you needn’t scorn the fact of the existence 
of the buffaloes. Rafe told us about them, too. 
And maybe we’ll get a shot at them.” 

How ? ” demanded Digby, fired by the thought. 

But at that instant something happened to the 
miner who was being ridden on a rail, which at- 
tracted their attention again. 

Hi 1 see that somersault ! ” cried Dig. 

“ Oh, dear me ! ” Chet exclaimed. “ That was 
enough to break his neck.” 

‘‘And serve him just right!” quoth the savage 
Dig. 

,Tony Traddles, in struggling to free himself, and 
while raised on the shoulders of the men, had turned 
completely over and now hung head-down, his long 


86 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

hair brushing the uneven ground over which he 
was being carried. 

The rough men laughed and cheered ; nor did they 
offer at first to help the discharged miner. Tony 
struggled and fought and finally was helped to a 
sitting posture again. 

The boys were too far away to hear all the pris- 
oner said — and that was fortunate. But now they 
ran forward and, above the cheers and laughter of 
the gang, heard Tony Traddles mouth out his 
threats : 

“ I’ll git square with you all ! I’ll make ye all 
eat dirt fur this day’s work ! Mark me. I’ll do fur 
ye all yet ! ” 

The men hooted and laughed at him, and Tony’s 
rage grew. 

‘‘ I’ll make ye all sing another tune. An’ I’ll git 
square with old Havens. Mark what I say now! 
I’ll git square.” 

The rough men went on with their prisoner, toss- 
ing the rail up and down and making his seat as 
uncomfortable as possible. Chet stopped in the 
trail and halted Digby by clinging to his coat- 
sleeve. 

‘‘ Let’s go back,” he said. I wish the men 


Chet Shoots a Hawk 87 

hadn’t angered Tony so. Perhaps he will do my 
father some harm.” 

“A fat chance he’d have of doing that!” ex- 
claimed the other boy. “ He’ll never dare come 
back here again. You tell your father. He’ll be 
on the lookout for Tony.” 

“ No, no ! he’s got enough to worry him. I 
wouldn’t say anything now that would disturb his 
mind. And say, Dig, that reminds me! Let’s try 
and get ’em to let us go to Grub Stake.” 

“ Huh ? To Grub Stake ? ” cried Digby, in sur- 
prise. “What for? Though I’d go quick enough 
if it were only to buy a lemon.” 

“ There’s a bigger reason than that,” laughed 
Chet Havens. “ Didn’t you hear my father say 
something about getting some papers signed by a 
man named Morrisy who lives at Grub Stake ? ” 

“Yes, I remember.” 

“ Well, it’s important. Father can’t go because 
his foot’s hurt. Let’s tease to go. And on the trail 
we might run across that big buffalo.” 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! ” ejaculated the excited Dig, falling back 
upon his favourite exclamation, “ that would be 
great. But you do the askin’, Chet. My father 


88 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

will think I’ve got something up my sleeve if I un- 
dertake even to hint at such a trip.” 

Chet agreed to this; but it was not a propitious 
moment to broach the subject when the chums re- 
turned to the shaft of the Silent Sue. Mr. Havens 
had just been helped upon Chet’s horse again, and 
was going home. He expected to remain at home 
for some weeks, and the business of the Silent Sue 
was to be under Mr. Fordham’s sole direction. 

The partners in the mine knew nothing about the 
trouble Tony Traddles had gotten into with the 
rougher element of the miners. Nor did the boys 
say anything about what they had seen. 

The next morning Digby was over bright and 
early at the Havens house to see if Chet had spoken 
to his father regarding the Grub Stake trip. He 
found his chum in the lot beside the corral, where 
his mother had a flock of hens, with his small, 
twenty-two calibre rifle. It was the little weapon 
Chet had learned to shoot with. 

“ What are you doin’ with that little play gun ? ” 
chuckled Digby. ‘‘ Shootin’ horseflies ? ” 

“ Just you keep still a minute,” whispered Chet, 
who was crouching behind a shed wall. “ Stoop 
down here. Keep still. I’m watching a hawk.” 


Chet Shoots a Hawk 


89 

You can’t shoot even a chicken hawk with that 
thing! ” exclaimed Dig, scorning a weapon of small 
calibre. 

“ You wait and see,” commanded Chet. ‘‘ There 
he comes now ! ” 

Far off against the sky appeared a dark spot, cir- 
cling ever lower and lower. The great hawk swept 
down in narrowing circles, its objective point plainly 
being Mrs. Havens’ hen-run. 

‘‘Why don’t you get a gun?” growled Dig, for 
although he well knew Chet’s skill with firearms, he 
thought the tiny rifle a foolish thing. 

Just then a voice behind the boys put in a word : 

“ I reckon your friend is going to wait for the 
hawk to drop on the chicken before he shoots. 
’Twon’t carry more’n ten feet, will it?” 

Chet turned rather angrily. He did not mind 
his chum’s joking; but this stranger’s scornful re- 
mark angered him. 

And he was a stranger. Chet thought he had 
never seen the man before. The fellow wore a 
big black sombrero, but was not in working clothes. 
His boots were polished, he wore a ruffled shirt and 
silk tie and cuffs. 

His countenance was not pleasant, for his eyes 


90 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

were too sharp and too near together. He had his 
brown moustache curled and there was an odour of 
strong perfume about him, as though he had just 
been to the barber’s. 

"‘You wait a couple of minutes,’’ Chet Havens 
said sharply, “ and you’ll see how far this gun car- 
ries. Providing that hawk isn’t frightened away,” 
he added, glancing upward. 

The stranger leaning on the fence immediately 
became very still. Dig began to grow nervous — 
for his friend’s sake. 

“ Say ! let me run in and get you a proper gun, 
Chet,” he whispered. “ I know you can kill that 
hawk up there; but not with that dinky little thing.” 

“ The first hawk I ever killed I brought down 
with this rifle,” muttered Chet. “ And I bet I 
haven’t forgotten the trick — That way ! ” 

As the hawk suddenly swooped, Chet stepped 
clear of the shed. He didn’t even bring the butt 
of the rifle to his shoulder, but fired from the hip. 

There was a shriek from the bird, and with sev- 
eral feathers flying, the hawk sank fluttering to the 
ground. Digby Fordham uttered a cry of admira- 
tion. 

“ I declare ! ” exclaimed the stranger, as the boys 


Chet Shoots a Hawk 91 

ran across the lot to secure the still fluttering bird. 

I never saw a prettier shot — and him only a 
kid!’’ 

He was gone when Chet and Dig returned with 
the dead hawk between them, each carrying the bird 
by an outstretched pinion. 

“ You gave me the laugh, Chet ! ” declared Dig, 
with enthusiasm. “ I didn’t think you could do it. 
Hello! where’s that fellow gone?” 

The stranger had disappeared. Just then, how- 
ever, Mr. Fordham rode down from the mine and 
the boys hurried out to show Chet’s prize and hean 
what news he had brought to Mr. Havens, who sat 
upon the front porch of the house with his wounded 
foot on a stool. 

'' Everything all right at the Silent Sue, Ford- 
ham?” Mr. Havens was asking. “I’m glad to 
know you’re on the job. But I’m worrying about 
that other matter.” 

“ About those deeds to the Crayton claim ? ” 
queried Mr. Fordham. 

“Yes,” said his partner. “The doctor says I 
shall be laid up here for three weeks. A lot may 
happen before I can get hold of John Morrisy. If 
we had somebody to send — ” 


92 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Dig had been prodding Chet eagerly, and whis- 
pering in his ear. The other boy dropped the hawk 
and drew nearer. 

Can’t Digby and I go to Grub Stake for you, 
Father?” he asked, timidly. “It’s vacation, we’ve 
got good horses and know how to shoot if we need 
to, and I’ve heard you say yourself the trail is plain. 
Can’t we go ? ” 

Mr. Havens and Mr. Fordham looked at each 
other. To tell the truth, the gentlemen had dis- 
cussed this very thing, only the boys did not know it. 

“ Your boy is all right,” drawled Mr. Fordham, 
“ but mine is such a scatter-brained youngster — ” 

“ Oh, Dad ! I promise not to scatter my brains — 
nor let them be scattered — if you say I can go with 
Chet to Grub Stake,” cried Dig, utterly unable to 
keep silent another minute, so great was his eager- 
ness. 


CHAPTER IX 


ON THE TRAIL TO GRUB STAKE 

But it was not all settled in a minute. The affair 
was of a much too serious nature. First of all the 
boys were sent away while the fathers privately dis- 
cussed the journey and what had to be done when 
once the messengers reached the town of Grub 
Stake, which was fully two hundred miles from Sil- 
ver Run. 

Banished from the front of the house Chet and 
Digby had an eager discussion of their own, while 
the former carefully skinned the hawk so that it 
could be mounted. 

Oh, Chet ! we’ll have just the Jim-dandiest kind 
of a time if they only let us go,” sighed Digby Ford- 
ham. 

“ And we’ll get a shot at those buffaloes,” said 
Chet, his eyes sparkling. 

'' Oh, shucks, boy ! ” drawled Dig. You’ve that 
big buffalo on the brain. I still declare that I don’t 
believe there is any such animal.” 

Just you take your heavy rifle along. It takes 
93 


94 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

a sizable bullet to kill a bull buffalo. I am going to 
borrow father’s big rifle.” 

“ Say ! they haven’t said we could go yet ! ” 

“ Who else can go? ” returned Chet. “If you’ll 
only promise to behave — ” 

“ Whew ! how about you ? ” 

“ Well,” answered Chet, “ they didn’t speak about 
me being scatter-brained,” and he laughed. 

“ I vow,” said Dig, “ by all the hoptoads that were 
chased out of Ireland — ” 

“ John Peep rather doubted if the toads went with 
the other reptilian species,” chuckled Chet. 

“Oh — hum! Well, anyway, I vow not to let 
my brains be scattered,” Dig remarked. Then he 
added complainingly, “I think my father is rather 
hard on me.” 

“ By the way,” Chet said suddenly, “ queer why 
John Peep left town to live up there in that 
shack.” 

“ Give it up,” said Dig. “ Perhaps he wanted 
to be ‘ heap big Injun.’ I reckon all redskins are 
queer.” 

“Now, Dig! Don’t you talk that way. John 
made us hustle in school to keep anywhere near him 
in classes. You know it.” 


On the Trail to Grub Stake 95 

‘‘Well! Tell us the news. Never mind about 
ancient history.’’ 

“ I found out that John wanted to play on the 
school nine. You know, the club’s going to play 
all this summer; some of the storekeepers have put 
up money to back it. And the captain and coach 
wouldn’t let John play.” 

“ What ? By the last hoptoad that was chased 
out of Ireland ! I’ve seen him pitch — ” 

“ I know. He’s a great little pitcher,” Chet in- 
terrupted. “ He’s a southpaw and he can puzzle 
most of ’em, you bet! It’s a mean shame. John 
Peep got sore and left town. Maybe he was sick 
of his family, too. They’re a lazy and dirty lot.” 

“ Whew ! Can’t blame him for that,” said Dig.'^ 
“ They’re an unhealthy looking crowd. Old Scar- 
face whitewashes fences for a nickel an hour and 
they live in a dirty hole of a cabin down in Hard- 
pan.” 

“ John always looked neat and clean when he 
came to school.” 

“ But see how he looked up there in the woods — 
like a reg’lar savage!” sniffed Dig. “Not half 
dressed — and living in that old shack. I wonder 
what he’s doing now that his outfit is burned.” 


96 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

I believe that stranger burned it — the one we 
saw talking with him when we rode by/’ declared 
Chet earnestly. “ And I never saw that man be- 
fore — Oh, Dig ! ” and he suddenly made an ex- 
cited grab for his chum’s arm. 

Well, goodness ! Don’t scare a fellow to death. 
What’s got you now? ” demanded Digby Fordham. 

That fellow is the one we saw with the lame In- 
dian.” 

‘^What fellow?” 

The man who butted in just now when I shot 
the hawk.” 

“Whew! you don’t mean it?” said Dig. 

“ Yes, I do. I remember him now. I remember 
his hat. Now, who can he be ? ” 

“Give it up! Hello! there’s father calling for 
us. Oh, Chet ! I hope they let us go to Grub Stake,” 
said Dig, longingly. 

Serious as was the errand to Grub Stake, Mr. 
Havens and Mr. Fordham were inclined to trust 
their sons more than ever before, and that because 
of one uncontrovertible fact. 

When nobody else had thought of any way to 
rescue the entombed miners from the Silent Sue, 
Chet and Dig had remembered about the old Cray- 


On the Trail to Grub Stake 97 

ton shaft and the possibility of getting into the 
closed mine through its old tunnel. 

“ It showed a surprising amount of thought and 
initiative for boys of their age,” Mr. Havens said. 
‘‘ I don’t know whether it was my boy or yours 
who took the lead, Fordham. At any rate, the two 
in conjunction hunted us out.” 

‘‘ Something is due the boys,” admitted Mr. Ford- 
ham, and the trip will be a great lark for them.” 

“ It’s more than a lark. I shall impress that on 
Chet’s mind,” said his partner, shaking his head. 

“ Oh ! your boy’s got a head on him,” agreed Mr. 
Fordham. 

‘‘ I hope so,” concluded Mr. Havens, and it was 
then the chums were recalled to receive permission 
and instructions for the journey over the trail to 
Grub Stake. 

Neither Chet nor Digby gave vent to any ex- 
uberance of joy at the prospect — not then, at least. 
They listened earnestly to what they were told, and 
then at once set about the preparations they had to 
make, for they were to start the very next morning. 

Dig, who never went anywhere on foot if he 
could help it, brought his black horse. Poke, and all 
his outfit over to the Havens corral that evening. 


98 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

The boys proposed to camp in the open, there being 
no ranches at that date along the Grub Stake trail. 
So they were obliged to pack a good deal of camp 
equipment. 

‘‘ We’d better hire one of Mexican Joe’s burros,” 
said Dig, and then we can take our piano and your 
mother’s sewing machine and washtubs.” 

“ Don’t begin to kick,” Chet said calmly. ‘‘ You’ll 
be glad to have all this stuff before we’re half-way 
to Grub Stake.” . 

‘‘And we’ll sound like a procession of junkmen 
when we pass by,” grumbled his chum. “ Talk 
about shooting game! Why, unless all the game is 
stone deaf, we won’t get within shot of a crippled 
mine rat ! ” 

“ No. I’ll pack this outfit so the tinware won’t 
rattle,” laughed Chet. “And we couldn’t take a 
burro. That would delay us. We want to be 
comfortable when we camp. After a long day’s 
ride, you’ll be the first one to call for a square 
meal.” 

“Say! how long’s the trip going to take?” de- 
manded Dig. “ We’ll be back by the time school 
opeijs next fall, I suppose?” 

“ Don’t be so ridiculous,” responded Chet. “ It’s 


On the Trail to Grub Stake 99 

a rough trail, and if we go right on with no delays, 
but for sleep and meals, it will take all of three 
days.” 

“ Whew ! my Poke can do it in a day and a half.” 

“But why rush like that?” cried Chet. “We 
want some fun, don’t we? This is no horse-race, 
I hope! And father says we can take our own 
time — especially coming back.” 

“ I know what you’re thinking about, Chet 
Havens!” cried his chum, in response. “You’re 
thinking of those buffaloes.” 

“ Well! and if I am?” 

“ Huh ! ” grunted Dig. “If any buffaloes ever 
see us with all this tinware and stuff aboard they’ll 
hike out for the north and never stop running till 
they reach the Arctic Circle ! ” 

Chet only laughed at him. He showed Dig how 
to pack the cooking utensils and the like in his 
blanket-roll so that they would not rattle. When 
they set out right after breakfast the next morning 
the compass of their outfit did not seem so great as 
Digby supposed it would. 

Chet carried in an inside pocket of his woollen 
outing shirt the deeds in duplicate which he was to 
get Mr. John Morrisy to sign. The old prospector 


loo The Trail Boys of the Plains 

who had never sold his interest in the Crayton claim 
was a queer, illiterate character, well known about 
Grub Stake. 

Mr. Havens had instructed Chet just how to 
proceed with the business in hand, and the boy was 
quite sure he could do it all without a hitch. The 
money to be passed in exchange for Mr. Morrisy’s 
signature was already on deposit with the Wells 
Fargo Company in Grub Stake; and of course Chet 
had no expectation of losing the deeds. 

The horses were in fine fettle, and so were the 
boys, when they rode out of Silver Run. Each of 
the chums carried a heavy rifle slung over his shoul- 
der and under his arm, the muzzle pointing down 
his bootleg. And you may be sure they were not 
loaded so that the hammer rested on a cartridge. 
The boys had long before been instructed as to the 
danger of that piece of carelessness. 

They were well supplied with loaded shells, for 
the day of the muzzle-loading rifles, with the cum- 
bersome shot-pouch and powder-horn was long past. 
Their revolvers were loaded, too, and each boy wore 
a keen hunting-knife in a sheath. 

They expected to kill most of the meat they ate 
on the trail. Canned beans did not greatly appeal to 


On the Trail to Grub Stake loi 

the trail boys; especially when they were sure there 
must be plenty of small game along the way. 

They aimed to take a trail which wound through 
the hills to the west of the town and would lead 
then by mid-aftemoon to the open plains. In going 
this way they passed through the poor suburb 
known as Hardpan. It was here the family of 
Lame John, the Cheyenne Indian, lived. 

On one side of a littered lane were grouped a 
dozen lean cabins, with barren yards divided from 
one another by pickets, eked out with hogshead 
hoops, gate-bars of old wagons, hoopskirts, and like 
rubbish. Here and there an attempt had been made 
by some of the Hardpan women or girls to make 
flowers grow; but they were sorry gardens. 

Across the lane the ground was open — part of it 
a dump for the refuse of the neighborhood. As 
Chet and Dig rode into the head of the driveway 
they heard a shrill chorus of cheers, intermixed 
with which was the E-i ! e-i ! e-i ! ” of the Indian 
yell and the ‘‘ Yee-ee-yip ! ” favoured by the cow- 
punchers of the ranges. 

“ Something doing, boy 1 cried Dig to his chum, 
at once interested. 

“ Must be that attack on Silver Run by the Co- 


102 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

manches you were telling your Cousin Tom about,” 
said Chet, chuckling. 

“ I reckon it’s a Cheyenne attack. Whew ! 
Look at that ! It’s a ball game.” 

No,” said Chet. “ It’s Lame John pitching to 
his grandfather. Oh, look at that! Old Scarface 
has put on a glove and John is trying out his fast 
one.” 

‘‘ Whew ! ” blew Dig. I must take a peep at 
that. Some little old southpaw, John is. He can 
show ’em ! ” 

It was a spectacle worth watching. The inhabi- 
tants of Hardpan wtre out in force to see it. 

There was a level diamond and surrounding 

garden ” cleared in the open lot. The spectators 
were gathered back of the foul lines, and among 
them were the boys who had recently been playing. 

Now John Peep had stepped into the box to 
throw a few exhibition balls. The governors of 
the school nine had refused to accept the lame In- 
dian boy as one of their pitching staff ; to the Hard- 
panites he was, nevertheless, something of a hero. 
He was winding up for another drive just as Chet 
and Dig appeared, and the spectators held their 
breath. 


On the Trail to Grub Stake 103 

Behind the plate stood a gnarled, lean old man in 
ragged, fringed leggings and a miner’s cast-off 
shirt, with moccasins on his feet. His hair was 
as white as could be; but he was as alert and his 
eyes as bright as though he were a young man. 
Old Scar face, once a brave of the Cheyenne tribe, 
was over eighty years of age. When the ball 
smashed into his glove he threw it back to his grand- 
son as smartly as any boy. His muscles were still 
supple and his eye true. 

Although Chet and Dig did not know it, ball 
playing was not a strange sport to the American 
Indian. Most of the tribes were playing ball before 
Columbus discovered the New World. Only, of 
course, the rules of the game were entirely different 
from those of our own baseball. 

“ Say ! the old man is great,’ ^ declared Chet, rein- 
ing in Hero. 

‘‘ But look at that ball whiz ! ” murmured Dig, 
as John Peep sent in another one. “ Why didn’t 
the other fellows want him to play on the team? 
He could have somebody run for him; and he can 
bat, even if he has a short leg.” 

^‘Just didn’t want him, that’s all,” said Chet. 
“ But I notice that our nine has got licked in almost 


104 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

every game they’ve played. And it’s particularly 
weak in the pitching — Say ! look at that one, will 
you? ” 

‘‘E-i! e-i! e-i!” 

“ Yee-ee-y ip ! Y ee-ee-y ip ! ’ ' 

The crowd went wild. A boy had stepped up to 
the plate and tried to hit the ball. John Peep’s 
curve seemed fairly to dodge the bat as the boy 
swung at it. 

Old Scarface — as serious as a deacon — 
slammed the ball back to his grandson and squatted 
for the next one. The old Indian took the matter 
as seriously as he took everything else in life. No- 
body ever saw the ancient Cheyenne ‘‘ crack a 
smile,” as Dig expressed it. 

Two more balls followed the first in quick suc- 
cession, and the batter tossed away his stick in dis- 
gust. He had only fanned. 

Then John saw the two boys on horseback, and 
he tossed the ball to another boy. Scarface stepped 
out of the catcher’s place and stood with folded 
arms beside the field. It was beneath his dignity to 
play ball save when his grandson wanted to pitch. 
Nobody in Hardpan but Scarface could “ hold ” the 
young Cheyenne’s delivery. 


On the Trail to Grub Stake 105 

The Indian lad ran over to the horsepath and 
asked Chet: 

‘‘ You going to take trail? ” 

Yes/’ said Chet. “ We’re hiking for Grub 
Stake.” 

‘"A-i! So I hear. You’re not going near that 
shaft I showed you — that way into the old mine ? ” 
No,” replied Chet. ‘‘ We’re not taking that 
trail.” 

‘‘ All right. You much better keep away from 
there,” said John, and turned away. 

Say ! ” cried the too curious Digby, ‘‘ who 
burned out your shack, John? ” 

“ Never you mind,” returned the Indian lad, and 
he showed anger in the expression of his face at 
this reminder of his loss. “ I’ll get my pay for 
that.” 

I hope you do,” commented Chet soothingly, 
and preparing to ride on. ‘‘ We’re all very thank- 
ful to you, John. My father would like to see you, 
if you’ll go up to the house. You know, he’s laid 
up for a while.” 

John Peep looked back at him sharply. " Ugh ! ” 
he grunted, in what Dig called his ‘‘ red Indian 
style.” ‘‘ Ugh ! Your father give Indian cast-off 


io6 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

suit of clothes. Your mother give Indian meal of 
victuals. Then shake hand, say, ' Good-bye, In- 
jun!' I don’t need those things, Chet Havens.” 

“ Well ! by all the hoptoads that were chased out 
of Ireland!” murmured Dig. 

But Chet said calmly : That isn’t the way my 

parents will treat you, John.” 

The Indian boy was still flushed and angry. 
“ That isn’t even my name ! ” he exclaimed. 

‘ John ’ is white boy’s name. They make me give 
it when I go to school. But it does not belong to 
me.” 

“ Say ! what is your name ? ” demanded Dig, his 
curiosity getting the better of his courtesy. 

Never you mind,” responded the Indian boy 
sharply, and turned away again. 

But Chet called after him: “ Do think better of 
it, and go to see my father.” Then he let Hero 
have his impatient head and he and his chum went 
on their way. 

That which rose out of this advice of Chet’s to 
the Indian lad could scarcely be foreseen by either 
of the boys; but it was of much importance. 

The chums rode on, soon leaving the last of the 
scattered cabins behind them. They met timber 


On the Trail to Grub Stake 107 

wagons from the hills, but nothing else for the next 
hour. The lumbermen looked curiously at the 
chums’ weapons, for their guns were too heavy for 
an ordinary hunting expedition. 

‘‘What you goin’ out after?” one timberman 
drawled. “Grizzlies — or is there an Injun up- 
risin’?” 

“We expect to bag a brace of humming-birds,” 
Dig told him gravely. “ Have you seen any ? ” 

“ No ; but I’ve heard ’em snorin’, sound asleep, in 
the tops of some of them cottonwoods,” was the 
reply. “ But, say ! They ain’t been a trace of Ole 
Ephraim in these hills since Methuselah was put 
inter trousers.” “ Ole Ephraim ” was the nick- 
name the old-time hunters and trappers gave to the 
grizzly bear. 

“ Nor I didn’t know of any redskins goin’ on the 
warpath. Has Blacksnake’s band of dog soldiers 
broke loose from the reservation ? ” pursued the 
man cheerfully. “ Say ! ’tain’t old Scarface and his 
fam’bly begun crow-hoppin’ — has they? If so, we 
sure will have a turrible mas-a-cree.” 

“ That’s all right,” laughed Chet. “ We’re going 
to bag all the game in the territory — you see.” 

“ Leave me a mess o’ Molly Cottontails,” said the 


io8 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

timberman, driving on. ‘‘ I ain’t had a rabbit with 
fixin’s yet this season.” 

‘‘And I shouldn’t think he’d want it,” grumbled 
Dig, as they left the man behind. “ Who wants to 
eat rabbit this time o’ year? I told you how it 
would be if we took these heavy guns, Chet. Folks 
will rig us to death. Huh ! Buffalo ! A fat 
chance ! ” 

Chet only laughed at him. He had a deal more 
faith in the existence of the buffalo band that had 
been reported as roaming upon the plains, across 
which the trail to Grub Stake lay. 


CHAPTER X 


MR. HAVENS HAS A VISITOR 

Mr. Havens and his wife had bidden the chums 
good-bye when they rode away from the house on 
the outskirts of Silver Run, and watched them as 
they cantered off down the road. Chet’s mother 
secretly feared something might befall her boy on 
his mission to Grub Stake; while Mr. Havens was 
only proud that he had a son whom he could trust 
in such an emergency. 

When Mrs. Havens had retired to the house her 
husband sank comfortably back into his chair and 
relit his pipe. It was then he espied the stranger 
in the black slouch hat coming up the street. 

Silver Run was not such a large town that the 
owner of the Silent Sue mine did not know most of 
its regular inhabitants, either by name or sight. 
This fellow he never remembered having seen be- 
fore. 

Nevertheless, when the man came opposite to the 
109 


no The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Havens’ house, he crossed the road and came up 
to the porch on which Chet’s father sat. He was a 
broadly smiling man; but his eyes did not smile. 
They were little and sharp and altogether too near 
each other to be honest. 

“ I reckon you’re Mr. Havens ? ” queried the 
stranger, putting out a hand that Mr. Havens did 
not appear to see. He was busy re-tamping his pipe 
just then. 

‘‘ .Yes, sir,” said the mine owner. “ I’m the 
man.” 

‘‘You’ve got an interest in a mine up yonder? ” 
said the stranger, nodding toward the mountain that 
loomed above the town. 

“Another man and I own the Silent Sue,” was 
the serious answer. 

“ Shucks ! I don’t mean that,” exclaimed the 
visitor jovially. 

“ What do you mean, then ? ” asked Mr. Havens. 
“ Not that it’s any of my business.” 

“ Sure it’s your business,” cried the stranger. 
“ I’ve come here to talk to you about it.” 

“ About what?” 

“ The Crayton claim.” 

“ Oh ! ” Mr. Havens eyed him silently and with 


Mr. Havens Has a Visitor iii 

much curiosity. But he had learned to wait and 
let the other man do the talking. That was why 
he was so successful in business. 

Yes,” said the stranger. I got hold of a 
share of the Crayton claim in a curious way. And 
I’d like to own it all, Mr. Havens. I learn at the 
Office of Record that you own a part. Will you 
sell?” 

That’s odd,” said Chet’s father slowly, and still 
examining the stranger with serious gaze. I be- 
came possessed of a share of the claim in a curious 
way, too, and I want to control it. Will you sell, 
Stranger ? ” 

No. I tell you I v;ant to buy,” said the man, 
with some warmth. ‘‘ I didn’t come here to peddle 
my share.” 

‘‘ And I didn’t ask you to come,” said Mr. Hav- 
ens softly. “ I don’t want to sell.” 

I’ve come here prepared to buy,” declared the 
man blusteringly. 

Sorry. Looks like a deadlock to me,” said Mr. 
Havens coolly. By the way, what is your name. 
Stranger ? ” 

'' Steve Brant. You don’t know me,” said the 
man ungraciously. 


1 12 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ No. You’re not at home in Silver Run, I take 
it?” 

‘‘ No, I’m not.” 

“ Nothing particular to bring you here but a de- 
sire to buy my interest in the Crayton claim ? ” 

‘‘ No,” repeated the man. 

‘‘ Then,” drawled Mr. Havens, ‘‘ there’s nothing 
to keep you from taking the next stage-coach out. 
It leaves the Silver Run Hotel this afternoon at 
two.” 

The man who called himself Brant flushed dully 
under Mr. Havens’ tone of raillery; but he managed 
to control his temper. 

“ You’d better think it over, Mr. Havens. I can 
give you a good trade.” 

Don’t want to trade.” 

‘‘ You’re not the only man I can deal with ! ” ex- 
claimed Steve Brant, looking at the mine owner 
slyly. 

“ No?” 

‘‘ I can get control without buying yo'ii out.” 

“That so?” returned Mr. Havens with apparent 
curiosity. 

“ Yes. You’re not the only one who owns a bit 
of the Crayton claim, There may not be ten cents’ 


Mr. Havens Has a Visitor 


113 

worth of pay ore left in it, but I have a fancy to 
open it up/’ 

Everybody ought to be free to follow his 
fancy,” said Mr. Havens cheerfully. 

“ But you’d better take your chance while you 
have it offered to you. I’ve only got to go to Grub 
Stake and buy,” went on the visitor. 

‘‘ That so? Then shares in the old claim are of- 
fered in Grub Stake?” queried Mr. Havens. 
“ Never heard of that before.” 

“ You don’t know everything,” sneered Steve 
Brant. Old John Morrisy’s never sold his share 
in the Crayton mine. I can get it and that will give 
me control.” 

No,” said Mr. Havens, quietly shaking his 
head. 

‘‘ Why not. I’d like to know ? ” demanded Steve 
Brant angrily. 

'' Because I’ve got an option on John Morrisy’s 
holdings — that’s why, Stranger.” 

'' What d’ye mean — option ? ” 

‘‘Just what I say. John’s agreed to sell it to 
me.” 

“ And you tied down here with a broken foot ? ” 
cried the other. “ I know old John Morrisy. The 


% 


1 14 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

man who can show him ready cash first will get his 
share in the old diggings, sure ! '' 

You’re so sure,” sighed Mr. Havens. ‘‘ Go 
ahead. You’ll learn.” 

“ YouVe bluffing.” 

‘‘ Go ahead. I might as well tell you, though,” 
said Chet’s father, “ that I’ve got my money on the 
spot and the papers are on the way to Grub Stake 
right now. I reckon I’ve beat you to it. Stranger.” 

“ Say I you don’t know me,” remarked Steve 
Brant threateningly. “ I’m not so easily beaten.” 

“ And I don’t care whether I beat you or not. 
I never saw you before,” said Mr. Havens ; “ and 
I don’t care to see you again. But take it from me : 
I’m going to control the old Crayton claim. It 
won’t be you. Mark that now ! ” 

The mine owner had become a little heated. 
Now he sank back in his chair again, and puffed 
strongly on his pipe. He appeared to have no fur- 
ther interest in the discussion. 

Steve Brant turned away from the porch — on 
which he had not been invited to sit — in plain 
wrath. He did not bid Mr. Havens good-bye, nor 
did the latter look after Brant when he walked 
down the street. 


Mr. Havens Has a Visitor 115 

Had he done so he could not have heard what 
the man was saying to himself. He felt that Mr. 
Havens had the best of him — for the time, at least. 
And it made him very angry. 

Something has ’woke him up. He must know 
something about that old claim — he knows as well 
as I do,” muttered Steve Brant. ‘‘ He’s in com- 
munication with old John Morrisy, is he? 

“ By gracious ! that’s where those boys were 
bound for when I saw them ride away this morning. 
I waited for them to get away first, for I was afraid 
they might have remembered my being up there with 
that young redskin. 

“ Ha ! I’d like to see what kind of papers they 
carry. Old John Morrisy is a queer duck — and 
he can’t read. Pshaw! I ought to be able to get 
the better of a couple of boys. Now, why not? 
That Tony knows the trail like a book — 
Humph ! 

“If I’m not smarter than a couple of boys and 
a man that’s tied to his piazza like a poodle-dog I’ll 
eat my hat,” declared Steve Brant, as he turned the 
nearest corner below the Havens’ house. 

Mr. Brant was evidently a man who would bear 
watching. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE FIRST ADVENTURE 

As Chet Havens and Digby Fordham mounted into 
the hills, the country about them became wilder 
and quite free from signs of man’s habitation. 
Even the behaviour of the birds and the squirrels 
was different from their conduct nearer town. 

“ I could knock the head off that fellow,” Dig 
declared, referring to a big grey squirrel that flirted 
his tail and chattered in a tall hemlock not far off 
the trail, “ if I only had my little rifle. This thing 
is a reg’lar elephant gun, Chet,” and he shifted the 
heavy rifle to his other shoulder. 

Knock the head off it, hey ? ” repeated Chet.N 

“Not a very sportsmanlike way to get a squir- 
rel.” 

“ Huh ! I’m not so particular how I get my 
game, as long as I get it. I don’t claim to be a 
fancy shot like you, Chet.” 

“If you were like Davy Crockett, you’d say a 
squirrel didn’t count in a game score if it wasn’t 

ii6 


The First Adventure 117 

shot in the eye/’ chuckled Chet. Of course, any- 
body can shoot the head off a squirrel.” 

“ Whew ! ” ejaculated Dig. Do you s’pose 
Davy always shot his squirrels in the eye? When 
a fellow wants a mess of squirrel pot-pie I don’t 
believe he is going to trouble about which end he 
kills his squirrel at.” 

“ He was a great shot, though,” Chet remarked 
admiringly. ‘‘ My grandfather saw him shoot in a 
match once, and he said Davy Crockett carried off 
every prize.” 

“ I suppose all the yarns they tell about him are 
true,” said Digby, his eyes twinkling; but I always 
liked that one about his shooting the coon the best.” 

“ What is that ? ” asked his chum innocently. 

“ Why,” said Dig, when the coon saw Davy 
Crockett aiming at him, he sang out: 

' Hoi’ on. Mars’ Crockett ! Don’ shoot ! I’ll 
come down ! ’ ” 

‘‘ That’s a yarn. Dig,” laughed Chet. “ But it’s 
a good one. Come on! Here’s a straight piece of 
road. I’ll race you.” 

Hold on ! ” exclaimed Dig. I’ve shaken 
down my breakfast enough already. Do you see 
those raspberries, Chet ? ” 


ii8 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ Cracky! what a lot of them! ” cried Chet. 

“ Let’s have a mess of them,” his chum said 
eagerly, and leaped down from his saddle. 

“ Here ! here ! ” called Chet. “ Hitch your horse, 
old man. We don’t want to be chasing Poke all 
over the pasture.” 

‘‘ All right. And hang your tinware on the sad- 
dle,” urged Dig, slipping the strap of his own rifle 
over the cantle after hitching Poke. He raced to 
the nearest clump of raspberry bushes as though he 
thought they would mysteriously disappear if he 
did not reach there in a minute. 

Chet climbed more slowly after him out of the 
well-defined trail into the rocky berry pasture. 
Both boys were unarmed save for the knives in their 
belts, for even their revolvers were in their saddle 
holsters. The bushes hung heavy with the ripe 
fruit and Dig, who was inordinately fond of the 
berries, at once filled both hands and began to cram 
the fruit into his mouth. 

“ Look out ! you’ll choke yourself,” his chum ad- 
monished him. 

“ Don’t you worry, old boy,” mumbled Dig, still 
eating greedily. ‘‘ It would be a lovely way of 
dyin’— 


The First Adventure 119 

Just then, as though conjured for Dig’s par- 
ticular punishment, there rose up on the other side 
of the clump of raspberry bushes a shaggy, black 
figure, almost within reach of Dig’s outstretched 
arm. 

“ Oh ! oh ! ah ! ” gasped Digby. ‘‘ It’s yo — 
your buf — buffalo, Chet ! ” and he fell back upon 
his chum, the crushed raspberries running out of 
his mouth in two streams. 

What’s the matter with you? ” asked his chum, 
who did not, on the instant, observe the object that 
had surprised Dig. “ Stop joking about that buf- 
falo.” 

“ Give me a gun ! Give me a gun ! ” groaned the 
other boy, his mouth finally freed from the crushed 
fruit. 

Then Chet saw the bear — a big black fellow, 
standing erect, and to all appearances just as scared 
as Digby Fordham was. 

It had the funniest expression on its muzzle. Its 
jaws were all beslobbered with crushed raspberries, 
as were its paws. It had been pressing the berries 
into its mouth just as Dig had been doing, and Chet 
thought the sight of the two — the boy and the bear 
— was one of the funniest he had ever seen. 


120 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

The bear’s little ears were cocked, and its eyes 
were amazingly sharp. But its surprise was plain 
and it staggered back just as Dig had done. 

Give me a gun ! ” begged the latter again, 
hoarsely. 

The bear turned and both boys thought it was 
coming around the clump of bushes to get at them. 
Dig uttered a squeal of fright and tumbled back- 
wards down the hill. Chet whipped out his skin- 
ning-knife, that being the only weapon he had with 
him, and stood his ground. 

But the bear only swung around to drop to all 
fours, and with a startled ‘‘ Woof! woof I ” he gal- 
loped away across the hill, soon disappearing in the 
thick jungle. 

But the bear had startled something besides Digby 
Fordham. While Chet hugged his sides in laughten. 
at the sight of his chum sprawling down the hill, 
wild snorts and a sudden clatter rose from the 
trail. 

“ Look out for the horses. Dig ! ” yelled Chet, 
breaking off his spasm of laughter in the middle. 

Poke had caught a glimpse of the bear or had 
smelled him. The black horse flung himself back 
upon his strap and snapped it. 



Then Chet saw the bear — a hig black fellow, 

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The First Adventure 121 

** Whoa, Poke ! ” cried Dig, and ran quickly down 
the hill. 

Yelling '‘Whoa!” to a whirlwind would have 
done about as much good. Poke started on a gal- 
lop, and when his master rolled down to the trail 
the black horse was already three lengths away. 

Hero did not try to escape. Perhaps his nostrils 
were not so sensitive to the smell of the bear. But 
his master hurried to soothe him. 

Poke shook off the swinging rifle at almost his 
first leap, and its striking his heels frightened the 
horse all the more. Then he began to strew Dig’s 
camping outfit along the trail, one piece at a time. 

Following the rifle, the pistol was tossed out of 
its holster — Dig had forgotten to fasten the flap 
of the pocket. His lasso was only hung on the 
saddle horn and that dropped off, banging the gal- 
loping horse about the heels. 

Dig, running after him, yelled “Whoa!” until 
he almost lost his voice, but to no purpose. 

The blanket roll became unfastened and it 
whipped Poke over the flanks. One article after 
another was spewed from the roll, and after striking 
the frightened horse, bounded off into the trail or 
beside it. 


122 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

A can of condensed milk hit a boulder and burst. 
A skillet was kicked into the air as Poke ran, and 
when it was found there was a hole through it as 
big as one’s fist. 

“ By all the hoptoads that were chased out of 
Ireland! That creature never will stop.” 

“ Get on my horse, Dig,” begged his chum. 

‘‘ All right. But unhitch all that truck. I’ll take 
your lariat.” 

“Going to lasso Poke?” demanded Chet, still 
much amused. 

“ I don’t care if I hang him,” declared Dig, leap- 
ing on the bay horse, and whirling him into the 
trail. 

Dig was a splendid rider. No matter how hard- 
bitted the horse was he rode, he always made a good 
appearance in the saddle. The black horse could 
outrun the bay; but Poke lacked the guidance of his 
master’s hand. He was still going at a heavy gal- 
lop, and Hero gained upon him at every leap. 

The camp equipment was still dropping out of 
Dig’s blankef-roll, and as long as that occurred 
Poke would undoubtedly run. Dig rose up in 
Hero’s stirrups, uncoiled the rope, and prepared to 


The First Adventure 123 

cast it over the black’s head when he got near 
enough. 

Meanwhile Chet came on behind, loading himself 
down with the scattered camp outfit and the rifles. 
He was soon too heavily laden to travel fast; be- 
sides, he had to stop now and then to laugh. 

Poke gave his master a two-mile chase, and then 
Dig roped him and brought the black horse back 
with him at the end of the lariat. 

“ I’d trade him for a cast-off pair of boots, and 
then swap the boots for a broken-bladed jack- 
knife,” grumbled Dig, who always made frightful 
threats against Poke when the black horse had mis- 
behaved. “ Whew ! I thought I’d have to walk 
all the way to Grub Stake by the way this villain 
started.” 

Chet was choked with laughter again. Dig 
turned on him sternly. 

‘‘Say! what’s the matter with you now?” he 
demanded. “ What are you laughing at ? ” 

“I — I wonder if that — that buf — buffalo you 
thought you saw is still — still running,” cried Chet, 
holding his aching sides. 


CHAPTER XII 


A MAVERICK 

In spite of the delay, the boys had made good 
progress on the Grub Stake trail when they stopped 
for a bite at noon. They were well through the 
foothills, the tall mountain in which were located 
the silver mines above Silver Run, was behind them, 
and the trail had become only a faint trace, yet 
easily followed because of the nature of the country. 

Now and again they had obtained glimpses of the 
open plains through the gullies between the wooded 
hills — here a great stretch of lawn covered with short 
buffalo grass; yonder an open piece of country 
strewn with brilliant flowers. 

As they sat on their haunches, cowboy fashion, 
beside the dying fire over which the coffee had been 
boiled, the chums suddenly saw a flight of swiftly 
bounding little animals cross the line of their vision. 
They passed across the opening between two hills 
to the north and were gone in a breath. 

“ Whew ! did you see them ? ’’ gasped Dig, almost 
spilling his coffee. 


124 


A Maverick 


125 


I saw something,” admitted Chet. 

What I want to know is, did you see the same 
thing I did? ” pursued Dig, grinning. ‘‘ They went 
so fast I didn’t know but I had ’em again.” 

“ I can assure you that you didn’t have those 
again. They’re almost too quick to lasso. They’re 
antelopes.” 

Whew ! I’d like to catch one ; but I never do 
have any luck catching things, unless it’s measles, 
or something perfectly useless.” 

Too bad, too bad!” said Chet pityingly, and 
quoted : 

‘“’Twas ever thus since childhood’s hour 
My fondest hopes I’ve seen decay. . . . 

I never loved a dear gazelle — 

‘‘ Waugh ! ” grunted Dig. “ What’s a gazelle? ” 

‘‘ It’s something like an antelope.” 

“ Well, it sounds awfully mushy. I’d like to 
catch one of ’em to eat.” 

‘‘ Sorry,” said Chet, throwing out the remainder 
of his coffee. But it would take a long time to 
trail those fellows. Maybe we’ll try it on our way 
back.” 

We’re going to fast, then, going over to Grub 
Stake? ” suggested Dig, complainingly. This sort 


126 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

of a snack isn’t going to keep me in the saddle for 
long.” 

‘‘ Perhaps we’ll come across a deer, poor boy,” 
said Chet soothingly. ‘‘ I shouldn’t wish you to 
starve. You know, the redman only pulled his belt 
the tighter when he had to go without food, and 
did not complain.” 

That’s all right. I’ll leave that to John Peep. 
When little Dig Fordham gets hungry you’re going 
to hear a holler — be sure of that.” 

‘‘ Keep your eye open for deer, then — or, when 
we get in the open, for sage hens or quail.” 

“ I’d rather have a supper of deer liver,” Dig 
returned, smacking his lips at the thought. 

Well, maybe we can shoot a deer. They are 
not so swift as the antelope.” 

But aren’t antelope easily trapped ? I’ve heard 
Rafe Peters tell about catching them with a red rag 
tied to a stalk.” 

Pshaw ! ” exclaimed Chet. “ You mean he 
toled them near enough with a red rag to pot-shoot 
them. The little creatures are very curious.” 

Oh ! then you shake salt on their tails, I 
s’pose? ” grumbled Dig. 

Chet had to laugh at this. But both boys, after 


A Maverick 


127 

the noon halt, kept a bright outlook for game. 
Their supper actually depended upon the discovery 
of some game which they might capture. 

An hour after their noontide stop the chums rode 
out upon a plain from between two heavily wooded 
hills. This open space was a great, level valley, 
through which a stream ran, and it should have been 
a paradise for ruminant animals. 

There was the shelter of the hills on both the 
east and north; the clear, placid stream; the abun- 
dant grass and low bushes; with sufficient shade 
along the watercourse to attract the herds. 

Hello ! ’’ exclaimed Dig suddenly. ‘‘ What’s 
been digging up the prairie in that way? Why, 
Chet! did you ever see the like? ” 

“ Yes, I have,” returned his chum. ‘‘ You know, 
when I went to Ben way with father that time, we 
travelled for a week with a herd.” 

‘‘ A herd ? Cattle, do you mean ? ” exclaimed 
Dig. 

‘‘ Yes.” 

‘‘You don’t mean to say this is a cattle trail?” 
demanded the other boy, drawing the black horse to 
a stop at the edge of a wide track in the sodded land, 
and gazing at it wonderingly. 


128 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ That’s what it is. More than twice as wide as 
the street we live in, Dig. See how the cattle’s 
sharp hoofs have cut it up? The herd we were 
with was a great sight. The column was a mile 
long, the cattle trotting along as they pleased, and 
seemingly of their own accord.” 

But didn’t the cowpunchers hurry ’em on, and 
crack their quirts and shoot guns to hurry them 
and all that?” 

“Of course not,” said Chet, with disgust. 
“ How much fat would there be left on a steer, do 
you suppose, if they were treated that way on the 
trail ? I didn’t see a man carrying a whip, and we 
rode with them nearly a week. 

“ Everything was quiet ; nobody shouted ; nobody 
seemed to bother the cattle at all.” 

“ But there must have been lots of cowpunchers 
on hand, so that if the cattle stampeded — ” Dig 
urged. 

“ There weren’t but eleven men with that herd,” 
Chet told him. “ I tried to find out all about the 
herd and how they handled them. You see, the 
men in the lead were called ‘point men,’ those rid- 
ing along the sides of the herd were the ‘ swing 


A Maverick 


129 

men ' and the one who brought up the rear was the 
‘ drag man.’ 

‘‘ In addition, there was the cook, who drove the 
chuck wagon, and the horse wrangler, who had 
charge of the remuda of a hundred and fifty ponies. 
‘ Remuda ’ means relay, you know.” 

“ Ugh-huh ! ” grunted Dig. “ But didn’t they 
stop to graze? Why, according to this trail, the 
cattle went right through the finest kind of grass 
without taking a bite.” 

‘‘ This was a big herd,” said Chet, eying the 
cut-up sod seriously. But, of course, they grazed. 
The way they did it when father and I travelled 
with them was this : An hour before noon one of 
the point men whistled and the whole column of 
beeves turned aside and went to grazing. They 
called it ‘ throwing the herd off the trail to graze.’ ” 

‘‘ Great ! ” exclaimed his chum. 

“ When it was time to start on, the men gathered 
them, got them headed right, and all settled into the 
trail again.” 

“ But how about the nights, Chet ? ” inquired 
Digby. “ How could eleven men handle such a 
large herd ? ” 


130 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ Why,” said Chet, they threw the herd off the 
trail to graze and to water just the same. The men 
were divided into watches, something like the 
watches at sea. Those on watch rode around and 
around the herd. If the cattle were uneasy they 
sang.” 

Dig chuckled. “ Sang what ? ” he asked. 

‘ Rock-a-bye-baby ’ and the like? ” 

‘‘ No,” laughed Chet. One fellow didn’t know 
anything but ‘ Beulah Land ’ — and after you’ve 
heard it sung a thousand times, you get tired of it. 
The regular cattle-herding songs have hundreds of 
verses to them; but the tunes get monotonous, too, 
after a while.” 

‘‘ I should think so ! ” ejaculated Digby. ‘‘ D’you 
know, I thought cattle herding was more boister- 
ous.” 

‘‘You’ve driven cows to pasture, haven’t you?” 

“Yes. For old man Feltman. He has seven,” 
Digby said. 

“ Multiply his seven by a thousand and you have 
a good-sized trail herd. Only there will be more 
crippled and strayed animals left behind a regular 
herd. And coyotes, wolves, and bears to pick them 
up.” 


A Maverick 


131 

“Whew! Maybe we can find a wolf on this 
trail/' cried Dig. 

“ I hope not ! There’s nothing wickeder in this 
country than a grey wolf,” declared Chet Havens. 

“ Why ! I thought they were cowards. Every- 
body says : ‘ As cowardly as a wolf.’ ” 

“ Then everybody is mistaken,” said Chet firmly. 
“ Don’t you fool yourself. They are not like 
coyotes. Rafe has told me that an old she wolf, 
especially with young, will go out of her way to 
attack man.” 

“ Gidap 1 ” exclaimed Dig. “ Rafe was stringing 
you.” 

“ I don’t think so. And when they run in packs, 
I’ve read that wolves are very dangerous in- 
deed.” 

“ Well ! we might find a maverick along this 
trail,” urged Dig. “ Say ! a yearling that hadn’t 
been branded might sell for a few dollars at Grub 
Stake.” 

“ Goodness me ! Do you think for a minute we 
cam stop to drive a dogy all the way to Grub 
Stake ?^’ laughed Chet. 

“ Huh ! you’d stop for that big buffalo, all right, 
all right, if you saw him.” 


132 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ I expect I would,” admitted his chum. 
‘‘ Wouldn’t you? ” 

“ If I ever see a buffalo — Say, Chet ! why do 
they call them ‘ mavericks ’ ? ” 

They don’t.” 

“What d’you mean, they don’t? Of course they 
do. Unbranded calves — ” 

“Oh!” chuckled Chet. “You got me twisted. 
I thought you meant the buffaloes.” 

“ Oh ! Don’t be funny.” 

“ Why, mavericks are unbranded cattle — usually 
yearlings. Called such, so I’ve read, because a cer- 
tain cattleman in Texas, named Colonel Maverick, 
refused to brand his cattle. All the other cattle 
owners did, so Maverick claimed all unbranded 
stock.” 

“ Oh!” 

“ It was a sharp trick, you see,” Chet said. “ He 
gathered in lots of cattle that way. Cowpunchers 
made a joke of it at first. They called every stray 
and unbranded beast a ‘ maverick.’ The name 
stuck.” 

The boys crossed the cattle trail, for it came up 
from the south through a pass between the hills 
there, while the faint trace they were following took 


A Maverick 


133 

them almost due west. The stream flowed with 
them, and during the afternoon they were never far 
from its bank. 

Therefore they started up several groups of ani- 
mals that were either feeding near the river or were 
drinking — a second small herd of antelopes (or pos- 
sibly the same herd they had caught a glimpse of 
before), a pair of red deer, coyotes uncounted, and 
some animal that went crashing off through the wil- 
lows, which they did not see, but which Dig declared 
made as much noise as a heavy freight. 

‘‘Your big buffalo, I bet, Chet,’’ he chuckled. 
“ That’s the only chance you’ll have of knocking 
him over.” 

“ Maybe not,” his chum said cheerfully. 

“ Talking of knocking something over,” pursued 
Digby, “ what are we going to have for supper ? 
There’s nothing hearty left in my pack but a con- 
densed milk tin. All these creatures seem to spot 
us half a mile off.” 

“ The birds don’t,” said Chet, unmoved. 

“ What have you in this outfit to shoot sage hens 
with?” growled Digby. “If you’d have let me 
bring a shotgun — ” 

His grumbling was stopped almost instantly. 


134 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Chet had been riding with the six-shooter loosened 
in its case while his eyes roved all about them as 
the horses walked. 

He threw up his left hand in warning to Dig and 
spoke in a low voice to Hero : 

“Whoa, Hero! Stand still!” 

Dig drew his black horse to a stop, being half a 
length behind the bay. Chet threw the long barrel 
of the pistol across his left forearm just as a flock 
of grouse whirred up from the grass ahead. 

Chet Havens' arm-rest was as steady as an iron 
bracket. Hero stood like a statue. Crack! crack! 
crack! Three of the prairie hens fluttered to the 
ground while the others disappeared beyond the wil- 
lows across the river. 

“ Whew ! ” yelled Dig, clambering down from his 
saddle. “ There's our supper.” 

He threw his lines to his chum while he ran to 
pick up the birds. 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of 
Ireland! you shot the head off of one of these, 
Chet.” 

“ That is the first one I shot,” returned his chum 
calmly, pushing fresh cartridges into his revolver 
and leaving the hammer resting on an empty shell. 


A Maverick 


13s 

“ Talk about Davy Crockett ! ” chuckled Digby. 
“I believe you’ve got him beaten — with a six- 
shooter, anyway.” 

Reckon you’re right,” admitted Chet. ‘‘ Davy 
never saw such a gun as this. But what would we 
do with a long barreled squirrel rifle with the flint 
filed to a sharp point and a few grains of powder 
sprinkled in the pan? I bet we’d starve on this 
journey. Dig.” 

Huh ! Maybe. But we’re not going to starve 
to-night,” returned his chum with assurance, and 
tying the legs of the grouse to his saddle. 

This trail to Grub Stake had never been a wagon 
trail, and for some months it had scarcely been 
used; therefore its trace was dim in places. Chet 
had been told the landmarks to follow by his father, 
however, and through this first valley there was no 
chance of the boys going astray. 

They would not get out of this valley until the 
next day. The horses had not been driven hard, 
save when Poke ran away from the bear, but they 
had brought the boys a good many miles from Sil- 
ver Run before sunset. 

They made camp in a grove on the river’s bank. 
The sun had dropped behind the western range and 


136 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

night was coming fast. Chet was making the fire 
and skinning the grouse. Dig hobbled the horses 
nearby, where the grazing was good, and then went 
along the river bank to see if there was a spring, the 
water of which would be fresher and colder than 
the river water. 

And in stumbling along through the bushes in 
the half-darkness Dig Fordham fell upon his next 
adventure. Chet suddenly heard a mighty thrash- 
ing and bellowing in the brush. Dig’s voice rose in 
excitement : 

‘‘ Bring your rope, Chet 1 Bring your rope ! I 
have a deer ! ” 

His chum did not believe him, but he did as Dig 
said and ran with the lariat coiled and ready in his 
hand. Only a few yards away he came upon his 
chum on the back of some animal, struggling in the 
mud beside the river. Dig had his arms around 
the creature’s neck, and was hanging on for dear 
life. 

‘‘I have him! I have him!” cried Dig. 

‘‘ Looks as though he had you,” laughed Chet. 

The creature had evidently been lying in the mud 
and Dig had fallen over him. Chet slipped the 


A Maverick 


137 

noose over the head of the animal and then advised 
his chum to rise. 

“ You’re frightening the poor thing to death,” 
he said, for it was bawling as well as struggling. 
And its voice was unmistakable to Chet’s ear. 

“ Whew ! I fell right over that deer,” gasped 
Dig, getting up as the creature danced around at the 
end of the rope, trying to get away from Chet. 

‘‘Deer! Your grandmother’s hat!” Chet said 
scornfully. “ You fell on a calf — that’s what you 
fell on. Don’t you know a deer from a calf?” 

“Calf?” repeated the chagrined Dig. “Where 
did it come from? There’s no ranch around here, 
is there?” 

“This is what you were looking for,” laughed 
Chet. “ It’s a maverick. It likely strayed from 
the last bunch of cattle that went over the trail we 
crossed. But how under the sun it managed to es- 
cape the coyotes and lions and bears is a mystery 
to me. Poor little fellow ! ” 

“Come on!” exclaimed Dig. “We’ll drag him 
back to camp, and I’ll gentle him. We aren’t trav- 
elling very fast, Chet, and we can lead him to-mor- 


row. 


138 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Well ! I’d rather you tried it than that I should,” 
his chum said grimly, handing him the end of the 
rope. “ Go to it, boy ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE DOG SOLDIERS 

The maverick was not a happy addition to the 
camping party — not at first, at least. Dig tied him 
to a tree, giving him the length of the lariat to tangle 
himself up in; and he did just that. 

Three times during supper Dig had to get up and 
unwind the rope to save the creature from choking 
himself to death. His plaintive bla-att ’’ might 
bring night-prowling beasts from the distant 
hills. 

In fact, Chet could not easily figure out how the 
yearling had escaped becoming the prey of some 
flesh-eating brute ere this, save that the season was 
in his favour. 

The bears had plenty of berries and other forest 
fruit. In the winter or in the early spring after 
his hibernation. Bruin would have stalked this mav- 
erick as cleverly as any wolf. 

The latter creatures were not plentiful in the 
hills now, and the coyotes were so cowardly they 
would not pull a bull calf down unless it was a crip- 
139 


140 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

pie — especially when there was plenty of smaller 
game. 

The mountain lion is always hungry ; but he does 
not often come out of the hills save when a herd 
of cattle is being wintered in some well-watered 
valley like this in which the chums from Silver Run 
were encamped. Then the cougar will slink down 
and lurk on the outskirts of the herd to catch a cow 
and calf away from the protection of their mates. 

‘‘ Your maverick struck a fat time in this valley, 
Dig,” Chet said. “ It’s escaped all beasts of prey 
save man. What are you going to do with it? 
It’s rather old for veal ; but I expect he’d be fair eat- 
ing — would give us all the steaks we’d need be- 
tween here and Grub Stake.” 

“I reckon not!” exclaimed Digby Fordham. 

We’re not going to butcher him.” 

‘‘ What then?” 

“ I tell you I’m going to lead him to Grub Stake.” 

‘^Cracky! you’ll surely bite off an awful mouth- 
ful to chew,” laughed Chet. It is a hundred and 
sixty or seventy miles to Grub Stake, and that mav- 
erick will pull back every foot of the way.” 

I don’t care,” said Dig obstinately. ‘‘ I can sell 
him if I get him to Grub Stake.” 


“The Dog Soldiers’’ 


141 

“ Waugh! ’’ said Chet, laughing. Who do you 
suppose would want this little, scrawny red-and- 
white dogy? ” 

Don’t call him names, Chet. Poor little fel- 
low,” said Dig. Wonder if he’d like a leg of this 
grouse to pick? ” 

‘‘Or a cup of coffee?” suggested his chum. 

But Dig was very much interested in his new pos- 
session. He was up two or three times in the night 
to see if he were tangled in the rope. 

“ The maverick ought to be ‘ gentled ’ very 
quickly,” Chet said ; “ he is receiving enough atten- 
tion.” 

The boys did not try to keep watch. They looked 
for no danger, and the horses feeding near the 
camp would give notice of the approach of any wild 
animal. 

There was no disturbance and the chums finally 
slept soundly beneath their blankets till morning. 
Indeed, the bawling of the yearling for water after 
sunrise was what awoke them. 

“ Say ! ” yawned Chet, rising and stretching. 
“We’re a fine pair of travellers — I don’t think! 
We won’t get started as early this morning as we 
did yesterday. Let’s hurry breakfast.” 


142 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘No, no!” objected Digby. “Hurry anything 
but the meals.” 

Nevertheless, Chet allowed only bacon, flapjacks 
and coffee to be prepared, although Digby had 
brought fishing tackle and begged for enough time 
to try for the catfish in the river. 

“ I just know there are catfish as long as your 
arm down under that bank,” he declared. “ They'd 
go fine, Chet. Why eat bacon when you might have 
a nice catfish flapping in the pan?” 

Chet, however, had made up his mind that they 
ought to make fairly good time on the trail until 
they should pass the second line of foothills. Then 
they would reach the broader plains, on which it 
was reported the herd of buffaloes had been seen. 
If the expedition to Grub Stake was to be delayed at 
all, he hoped it would be delayed only by the huge 
buffalo and its mates, of which the men about the 
Silent Sue shaft had spoken. 

“We don’t want to be fooling around here with 
a mess of catfish,” he said to Dig, “ when we may 
be able, later, to get a shot at something worth 
while.” 

“ Oh, Chet I ” exclaimed Digby, “ you’ve got 
that buffalo on the brain and nothing else is going 


“The Dog Soldiers” 143 

to suit you. Bet you we lug these heavy rifles clear 
to Grub Stake and don’t get a shot.” 

Never mind ; you’ve captured a deer, Dig,” said 
his chum soothingly. ‘‘ And you say you are going 
to lead it with you.” 

“ So I am ! ” snapped Dig. I can be pig- 
headed just as well as you can.” 

But something almost immediately happened to 
cheer Dig up and avert any quarrel between the 
chums. It was something that held them at the 
camp by the river for a while, too. 

As it fell out, breakfast was finished and the pots 
and pans washed. Their blanket-rolls were re- 
packed and all was ready for saddling, when a tor- 
rent of pounding hoofs reached their ears. 

'' Stampede ! ” yelled Chet, starting for the edge 
of the grove. 

‘‘What of — buffaloes?” demanded his friend, 
following in a more leisurely fashion. 

Chet first came to the edge of the grove, where 
he could see back along the trail by which they had 
come from Silver Run. There was a cloud of dust 
which shrouded a number of horsemen; but how 
many were coming, and who they were, the boy 
could not at first imagine. 


144 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Then, out of the cloud, as it slowed up, appeared 
a band of frowsy ponies, most of them piebald. 
They were ridden by Indians — and rather savage 
looking ones at that. 

Chet Havens had never seen so many redmen 
before, save at a show. They were stripped to the 
waist and wore only fringed leggings and mocca- 
sins. There were feathers in their topknots; yet 
Chet, seeing them closer, knew that those feathers 
were not worn because they were braves ” and had 
killed their enemies in battle. 

These were only Indian youths out on a frolic 
or a hunt, none of them being much older than Dig 
and himself. But how they did ride! They had 
only a cloth over their ponies’ backs and each rode 
with a single rein to guide his half wild brute. 

Each young redskin carried a rifle and they all 
tossed them up as high as they could reach when 
they saw the two white boys appear from the river- 
side. Then, at a signal from their leader, they 
flung themselves to the far side of their mounts, 
and circled out from the trail, passing the amazed 
Chet and Dig, only one hand and a foot of each 
Indian showing, their ponies still tearing along at 
a great pace. In wartime the Indians performed 


“The Dog Soldiers” 145 

this trick, shooting at their enemies under the 
ponies’ necks. 

Dig had brought his gun, and when he heard the 
‘‘ E-i ! e-i ! e-i ! ” of the Indian yell he was a little 
scared. 

‘‘What kind of a game is this?” he wanted to 
know of Chet. “ By the last hoptoad that was 
chased out of Ireland ! those yelling galoots look as 
though they meant business.” 

“ Shucks, boy ! ” said Chet,” you know there are 
no more wild Indians.” 

“Huh! if those fellows are not wild, what are 
they? And whew! how they can ride!” 

“ That’s John Peep in the lead,” Chet said. 
“ Though what he’s doing away over here I can’t 
imagine.” 

“ Huh ! I’ll get even some way ! ” threatened 
Digby. “ Scaring a fellow out of half a year’s 
growth ! ” 

The cavalcade came back, the sweat-streaked 
faces of the riders grinning. Dig said to his chum : 

“A great mess of ‘dog soldiers.’ Whew! you 
can’t cure an Indian of his old tricks. I bet right 
now they’d like to scalp us.” 

“ Don’t see how they’d ever perform the opera- 


146 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

tion on you,” laughed Chet, “ with that prize- 
fighter’s cut you have.” 

Chet noticed that all of the young fellows that 
Dig called ‘‘dog soldiers” were fine looking boys. 
In the old days the young braves that could not be 
controlled by the chiefs, but who desired to go to 
war and make names for themselves, were called 
“ dog soldiers.” 

“Hello, John!” shouted Chet. “What are you 
doing over here? Last time we saw you, you were 
playing baseball. You must have hustled some to 
catch us.” 

The Cheyenne dropped off his pony’s back and 
the animal went to cropping the grass at once, and 
hungrily. Chet decided that the party had been 
travelling for some hours and that the ponies had 
had no chance for grazing, but had been watered 
when the band crossed the river. 

John glanced at Chet in rather an odd manner; 
but true to his national trait he did not answer the 
question directly. 

“ We go on hunt,” John Peep said. “ Mebbe stay 
week; mebbe longer. These boys all my friends,” 
and he waved his hand at the young riders who 
waited to be asked to dismount. “ Not all Chey- 


Dog Soldiers” 


147 

enne. Sioux — Pawnee — Ogallala. All go to 
Government school at Ben way. Vacation now, like 
us. We make breakfast with you.” 

The customs of the trail must prevail. The white 
boys had finished their meal, but nobody ever denied 
the hospitable rite on the plains. The first party 
at a camping place was bound to ask the new-com- 
ers to join them. But here were ten or twelve 
hearty appetites suddenly to be appeased. 

“ All right,” grunted Dig. ‘‘ I could do some- 
thing to another breakfast. We only had an apol- 
ogy for one, as I told you, Chet.” 

Chet sighed; but he felt, too, that John Peep had 
not come down this trail without cause. He won- 
dered if, perhaps, the young Indians had heard of 
the buffaloes and were on their way to hunt for 
them. 

Don’t say anything about the big buffalo, Dig,” 
he whispered to his chum, as they hurried back 
through the grove. ‘‘ I hope they don’t know any- 
thing about it. And what they don’t know won’t 
hurt them.” 

‘‘All right, boy! I won’t tell them any fairy 
tales,” said Dig. 

Chet stirred up the fire, and mixed some prepared 


148 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

pancake flour, and put on the coffee pot. Some of 
the Indians joined Digby in catching fish. They 
had much more primitive tackle than the white 
boy; but the catfish bit so hungrily that it scarcely 
mattered whether the bait was let down to them on 
“ store tackle ’’ or on a thorn from a whitethorn 
bush. 

‘‘ Say ! ’’ exclaimed Dig, ‘‘ somebody besides us 
was hungry for breakfast. These cats are raven- 
ous. Whew ! look at that one ! ” 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE WARNING 

As fast as the catfish were caught they were skinned 
and dressed. Chet had sliced all the bacon they 
had brought with them ; he told Dig that the 
way they were feasting now pointed to a fast for 
the rest of their trip to Grub Stake. 

‘‘ Don’t worry,” advised his chum. “ Let’s give 
these Indians a good meal for once. They’re good 
fellows.” 

Chet, as chief cook, was hampered by the size 
of his skillet; Poke had kicked a hole in the largest 
one the day before. But John Peep cooked the fish 
for the most part, while Chet fried flapjacks. 

And no old cook with a trail outfit could toss a 
flapjack better than Chet Havens. One of the In- 
dian lads brought clean pieces of bark — one for 
each person — and Chet slid the cakes on to these 
make-shift dishes. The fish were handed about on 
the same platters. There was plenty of seasoning 
besides the general good appetite. 

149 


150 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Don’t talk ! ” grumbled Dig. “ By this time 
I don’t know whetlier I had any breakfast early or 
not. Don’t be stingy with the cakes, Chet.” 

But his chum got tired of tossing flapjacks after 
a while; to tell the truth, his arm got lame. Then 
John Peep tried it. The chums discovered that 
these Indian lads did not call each other by the out- 
landish names that white people had bestowed upon 
them. They all spoke of John Peep as “ Amoshee,” 
and Chet quickly began to address him by his Indian 
name, too. 

There was a lot of fun at that breakfast. Indian 
boys are not like whites in all things, it is true ; but 
they are not lacking in a sense of humour, and as 
these sat about the campfire in the glade, jokes and 
quips passed to and fro as they might have at a 
gathering of white boys. 

Chet “ counted noses ” and said to Amoshee : 

“ Say, they froze you out of our ball club, but 
why don’t you have one of your own? Here’s 
enough of you boys to make up a good nine.” 

The Indian lad’s eyes brightened, and he looked 
proudly around the circle of faces. Their racial 
features were pronounced; there wasn’t a redskin 


The Warning 151 

boy there that could not trace his line back to some 
big chief of the olden time when the Indian was 
master of these plains and hills. 

“ Heap good boys,” Amoshee grunted, but smiled, 
too, for he only used English in that barbarous way 
in fun, or when he was excited. Out in the open 
like this, having thrown off all the shackles of civ- 
ilisation, his natural thoughts and instincts rose to 
the surface. “ Heap good boys,” he said again, and 
with pride. 

“ I should say they were ! ” exclaimed Chet, with 
enthusiasm. ‘‘ Look at that tall fellow yonder. 
Couldn’t he reach the high ones out in centrefield? 
My ! And that little, squatty fellow — what a 
shortstop he’d make! Say! don’t they know any- 
thing about baseball ? ” 

Amoshee smiled rather pityingly upon his white 
friend. 

“ They all play baseball at school — and football, 
and ev’rything else. I want to go away to Govern- 
ment school if my grandfather will let me.” 

‘‘ Say ! then you’ve got a nine ready-made to your 
hand. Practise a little,” said Chet. Get to work- 
ing together well, and then challenge our high school 


1^2 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

nine. It would serve them right if you licked them. 
You’ve a delivery that would puzzle most of them, 

I tell you.” 

Amoshee, otherwise John Peep, thought well of 
the scheme, it was plain. But meanwhile Digby ■ 
Fordham and the other Indians had been hatching 
out something entirely different. 

It was already nine o’clock, but Dig was not 
ready for the trail yet. He had been bragging with 
the Indians about ponies and riding. Now they 
had to prove out each other’s prowess. 

“Oh, Dig!” complained Chet. “We’ll never 
get away.” 

“ Be still ! ” grinned his chum, knowing what was 
really troubling Chet. “ That old bull buffalo will 
wait for you, don’t fear.” 

“ Hush ! ” warned Chet again. 

He had learned from Amoshee that the party of 
Indian lads was going north on this hunting trip. 
He did not believe they had heard anything about 
the herd of buffaloes, and he did not propose to tell 
them. 

Few hunters crossed these valleys and hills at this 
time of year, and only two men whom he knew of 
had chanced upon the buffaloes. Neither had been 


The Warning 153 

prepared to stalk the beasts, and Chet hoped that 
nobody else had been along the Grub Stake trail 
beside which the buffaloes seemed to be feeding. 

Meanwhile the Indians were catching their ponies. 
They did not hobble them as the white boys did, but 
picketed them out at the end of their lariats. The 
scrubby little beasts did not look either fast or trust- 
worthy ; but Chet and Dig knew what they could do. 

They had seen Indians perform on horseback be- 
fore. With but one line twisted about the pony’s 
lower jaw, and without even a cloth on its back, an 
Indian can ride and perform evolutions that are 
really remarkable. 

On the great lawn outside the grove in which 
they had camped, the Indian youths performed all 
manner of tricks. Amoshee was one of the best, 
for on the back of a pony he was the equal of any 
of his mates. His shortened leg did not count 
against him there. 

They hung by their heels while the ponies scoured 
the plains, running in a circle. Two rode swiftly, 
side by side, and picked up a third who lay as though 
dead on the prairie, and bore him off at full gallop. 
Two rode from opposite sides and actually changed 
ponies as they passed ! 


154 Trail Boys of the Plains 

Now, white boy,’' said the big fellow whom 
Chet wanted to see in centrefield. ‘‘ Show what 
him do.” 

Dig was nothing loath. He stripped Poke and 
brought him out with neither saddle nor bridle. 
Meanly as the black horse sometimes acted, this was 
not an occasion when he was likely to play the run- 
away. 

He seemed to understand that there was a con- 
test, and he liked to show off just as well as did his 
master. The presence of the ponies made him snort 
and toss his mane ; and in the corral he would doubt- 
less have tried to bite them. But he obeyed his mas- 
ter’s voice and hand — even his whistle — now, 
with most exemplary promptness. 

Dig did not try to equal the Indian boys’ tricks; 
but he had others of his own. He mounted and 
dismounted while Poke was on the run. He made 
the mustang lie down under him and roll over. Dig 
standing on the horse all the time and never once 
touching the ground. 

He rode both kneeling and standing on the mus- 
tang’s bare back. Then he cinched on the saddle, 
dropped his kerchief on the sod and picked it up 
with his teeth. Poke running like a wolf meanwhile. 


The Warning 155 

Amoshee and his friends hailed this last feat as 
the greatest and they all shook Dig by the hand. 

“ Guess they think I’m some pumpkins,” Dig said 
to his chum. “ I reckon there isn’t anything a red- 
skin can do that a white man can’t beat him 
at.” 

Of course, he said this when none of the visitors 
could hear him. Now the Indian lads wanted to 
see Chet shoot. Probably Amoshee had told them 
that young Havens excelled in that. 

The Indian boys themselves had only the cheap- 
est kind of rifles, and no pistols at all. The chums 
had their revolvers, and the heavy rifle that Chet 
had brought with him was almost the equal of a 
cannon for distance. And the accuracy of its shoot- 
ing was far superior to that of the Indians’ guns. 

So Chet pitted himself with his pistol against the 
rifles of Amoshee and his friends. At distance 
marks the Indian boys thought they had Chet beat; 
but after they had all plugged away at the target, 
none of them hitting very near the centre, Chet 
paced ten paces back of the line from which they 
had shot and came within half an inch of the bull’s- 
eye at his first shot. With his remaining five bul- 
lets he riddled the target. 


156 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Then he leaped aboard Hero and showed them 
some fancy shots with his horse on the run. He and 
Dig had practised so much in the corral at home 
that Chet had really become wonderfully expert. 
Pistol shooting is a matter of eye and practice. Or- 
dinarily one must have a big target to hit with a six- 
shooter. 

The morning was growing old. Even the In- 
dians began to wish to get on. Amoshee drew Chet 
Havens aside and said : 

I took your advice and went to see Mr. Hav- 
ens.” 

Bully for you ! ” exclaimed Chet. “ I know 
my father will be glad to do something for you, if 
you’ll let him.” 

‘‘ But I didn’t see him, Chet,” the Indian lad said 
calmly. 

‘‘You didn’t see him?” 

“ No. He had a visitor. I stayed hidden. I 
knew that man.” 

“ Who — the man with father ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Who was he? What did he want?” queried 
Chet, in wonder. 

“I not know what he wanted of Mr. Havens; 


The Warning 157 

but I know he is a bad man,” declared the Indian 
lad with conviction. 

“ Hel-lo ! ” exclaimed Chet. “ Not that man 
who — who burned your shack? ” 

He’s the man,” grunted Amoshee. '' I shall 
get square with him.” 

“ But what did he want of father? ” 

‘‘ I not know. He has been around that old mine 
I showed you. He dug hole into old tunnel. He 
want something,” said Amoshee shortly. 

Say ! can he be the fellow who is after the old 
Crayton diggings ? ” 

‘‘ He after you,” said the Indian. 

What do you mean, John ? ” cried Chet. He’s 
not following us ? ” 

He’s on this trail before now. Going to Grub 
Stake. I heard him talk to big man that work in 
mine — get kicked out — quick ! You know ? ” 
Amoshee said excitedly. 

Chet seemed preternaturally sharp at the mo- 
ment. 

‘‘You don’t mean Tony Traddles? The man 
who was discharged for the trouble in our mine?” 

“ That’s he — Tony,” Amoshee assured him. 

I heard him spoken to. I followed that man frort] 


158 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Mr. Havens’ house. I heard them say they take 
this trail. You better look out for them. That 
man mad as he can be.” 

My goodness! what can they want of Dig and 
me?” queried Chet wonderingly. 

Don’t know. They not friendly. That’s all I 
can tell you. Me — I go hunting with these boys. 
I get ’em start last night instead of this morning, so 
we can catch you and say this. Good-bye 1 ” 

He wrung Chet’s hand and leaped astride his im- 
patient pony. The other Indans were already 
mounted. They all turned at a little distance and 
gave the Indian yell and threw up their rifles. Then 
they struck heels to their ponies’ sides and darted 
away into the north. 

‘‘There goes a good bunch of fellows,” Digby 
Fordham said, with a sigh. “ I hadn’t any idea 
Indians were such good sports.” 


CHAPTER XV 


‘‘ WHAT won’t be led MUST BE DRIVEN ” 

‘‘Come along,” said Chet, after the Indians were- 
gone. “ Let’s pick up the pieces and get away. 
We won’t get anywhere on the trail to-day. But 
there’s one thing sure — we won’t stop at noon to 
eat.” 

“ Whew ! I lose that meal, do I ? ” grumbled 
Dig. 

“ And you’ll lose supper, too, if we don’t shoot 
some game. Our guests pretty nearly ate us out 
of house and home. I calculated on your appetite 
when I made up our list of provisions; but I didn’t 
calculate on a plague of locusts. Amoshee, or John 
Peep, and his red friends had their appetites with 
them, and no mistake.” 

“ Oh, don’t worry,” said his chum, with sarcasm. 
“We can’t starve when buffaloes roam the plains 
as plentifully as they do. We’ll soon be able to 
rope a buffalo calf, eh?” 

“ No, there’s no need of that,” said Chet calmly. 
159 


i6o The Trail Boys of the Plains 

WeVe got your maverick to feed on. When are 
you going to butcher him, Dig? ’’ 

I guess not ! ’’ cried Dig indignantly. He’s 
a pet. See! he knows me now.” 

He was just then approaching the yearling to un- 
fasten the lariat. The little brute waited, with low- 
ered head, watching Dig with what Chet was sure 
was a malevolent eye. 

Dig stooped to untangle the rope, turning rear- 
ward to the captured calf. As though he had been 
waiting for the chance, the calf blatted and charged. 
The impact of his forehead against the seat of Dig’s 
pants was tremendous. 

“Waugh! Take him off! Help!” roared Dig, 
after performing a complete somersault. Chet ab- 
solutely could not help him. The maverick leaped 
about his prostrate captor, stiff-legged. The rope 
became wound around Dig’s ankle and then, when 
he tried to get to his feet, he could not do so. 

“ Stop your laughing ! ” he called to his chum, 
“ and come to help a fellow. He’s going to bat me 
again ! ” 

“What do you want — a gun?” sputtered Chet, 
“ That calf is just as dangerous as a tiger.” 


“What Won’t Be Led” * i6i 

But he helped his chum out of his predicament, 
though continuing to make remarks regarding the. 
maverick and its troubled owner. 

‘‘ So you call this a pet, do you? I’d just as soon 
pet a Kansas cyclone. Whoa, boy! Easy! My 
goodness. Dig! he pulls like a bull elk. There’s 
something wrong with this maverick. He’s crossed 
with a traction engine, I know.” 

Oh, you behave ! ” complained Digby. Why 
pick upon the innocent little thing ? I believe you’ve 
been tantalising him when my back was turned. 
That’s why he acts in such an ornery fashion.” 

They got on their horses at length, and Dig at- 
tempted to lead his prize. Instantly the maverick 
set all four hoofs in the soft prairie and braced him- 
self against the line. But Dig had his line fastened 
to the fork of the saddle and the yearling could not 
pull Poke over. 

The mustang snorted and dragged the maverick 
over the torn sod. The latter animal could not 
blat, for its wind was shut off. 

Hi ! ” cried Chet. “ You’ll stretch its neck until 
it will look like a giraffe. Then you’ll never sell it 
at Grub Stake for a pet or for anything else.” 


1 62 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ Get better money for it/’ declared Dig grimly. 
‘‘ It would sell for a freak in a circus. And, by Jo ! 
it’s got to come.” 

Chet watched the tug of war for some minutes 
further before asking, seriously: 

“You haven’t called it anything yet, have you. 
Dig?” 

“ Called it anything? ” protested his chum. “ I’ve 
called it everything I dared aloud, and a whole lot 
of names that don’t sound well to myself! ” 

“ Oh, no — I mean a real name,” said Chet, 
chuckling. “ You haven’t named it yet? ” 

“ Haven’t had time,” returned Dig innocently 
enough. “ I been too busy trying to make the 
darned thing behave.” 

“ Well, I’d like to suggest a name for it,” said 
Chet. 

“Yes?” responded Dig, yanking again on the 
calf’s line. 

“ Call it Stone Fence. You can move it just as 
easily.” 

“Waugh!” shouted Dig, as the calf hung back 
again and the rope became taut, burning the boy’s 
hand between rope and saddle. “ Now you’ve said 
something, boy ! Stone Fence let him be.” 


^What Won’t Be Led” 163 

Poke was dancing. He was no cow-pony and he 
objected to the dragging of the waif. 

We’ll never get anywhere,” said Chet impa- 
tiently. “ Do something to that calf, Dig, please! ” 

It did seem as though after the little brute had 
been half choked to death he ought to be willing to 
trot along behind Poke; but not so. Stone Fence 
fell down on his knees, flopped over on his side, 
and allowed himself to be dragged in that posi- 
tion. 

‘‘ Say ! ” gasped the sweating Dig, “ he’ll be worn 
as thin as paper if he keeps that up. By the last 
hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland! I’ll beat 
that little nuisance ! ” 

He dismounted and cut two long willow sprouts. 
The maverick began to graze. Nothing seemed to 
disturb its appetite. In that possession it and Digby 
Fordham were brothers, and Chet, with gravity, 
pointed this fact out. 

‘‘ Brothers ? ” sniffed Dig. “ You can bet we are 
brothers in another way. That dogy is obstinate; 
but so am I. You watch me! ” 

He mounted into the saddle again. He stuck 
one willow wand into his bootleg for emergency, 
and then used the other to prod the maverick. The 


164 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

latter didn’t like this. He kept ahead of the point 
of the willow wand which, whenever he lagged, 
poked between his hind legs. 

Chet almost fell out of his saddle from laughing 
at the performance; and Poke looked as disgusted 
as a mustang can look. That calf plunging along 
the trail just ahead of Poke’s nose disgruntled the 
spirited horse. 

Chet led the march, the maverick came next, and 
Dig brought up an active rear. “ What won’t be 
led must be driven,” quoth Dig, now quite himself 
again. ‘‘ All aboard for Grub Stake again, Chet, 
my boy.” 

“ My goodness ! ” exclaimed his chum, rather ex- 
asperated. “ When do you think we’ll ever get 
there at this rate? ” 

They made fair time, however, considering the 
obstacles during a part of the afternoon. Chet gal- 
loped away off the trail at sight of a small herd of 
deer, and managed to get near enough to shoot a 
young doe. He cut its throat, and let it bleed well, 
and then flung it over the saddle and cantered back 
to the trail. 

Dig was rather disappointed because he had not 
had any of the fun of stalking the deer. Chet 


“What Won’t Be Led” 165 

pointed out the fact that Dig had the maverick, 
saying : 

There is compensation in everything, my boy. 
You have that pet to play with; I don’t own any 
maverick. You don’t hear me kicking — ” 

“ Oh, go on! ” growled Dig. 

There was one good thing about Digby Fordham : 
he never really held rancour; and he could take a 
joke as well as give one. Of course he knew that he 
had caught a Tartar in the yearling; but he would 
not give him up. 

Before the afternoon was gone Stone Fence had 
learned that it was better to walk more or less se- 
dately along the trail than to be poked with a sharp 
pole. Their pace was not rapid ; but they got 
through the pass between the hills after a time. 

It was just before they left the pass and as the 
wider plain beyond broke upon their view that Dig 
spied a grey animal sitting on a rock ahead of them, 
and some distance off the trail. 

What do you call that, Chet ? ” he cried. 
‘‘ Looks like an old woman with a nightcap on — 
only she’s got two tassels on the cap and they stick 
up straight.” 

Wolf! ” responded his chum, the instant he saw 


1 66 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

the grey figure on the rock. “ And the ‘ old 
woman ’ is all right. Bet she’s a big she- wolf with 
a litter somewhere near. Yes, by cracky ! there they 
are, Dig.” 

“ I see ’em,” Dig returned. 

There were several moving figures beside the big 
old wolf sitting on her haunches. Dig was anxious 
to try and get a shot. 

“ No more chance of hitting her than of hitting 
the moon,” returned Chet, restraining him. ‘‘ But 
I’ll tell you something right now.” 

What’s that?” 

“ You keep this blamed calf tagging us around for 
long, and we’ll have a whole pack of wolves ringing 
our camp. Make up your mind to that, boy.” 

‘‘‘Tagging us around’? That sounds good,” 
snorted Dig. “ Get up there, you pest ! I’ve driven 
this pesky creature almost far enough now.” 

“ Turn him loose then.” 

“ Oh, no ! I couldn’t be so cruel. Not with 
those wolves in sight,” said Dig, shaking his head. 

“ Make up your mind that he is going to attract 
night prowlers.” 

“ Good ! I want to get a shot at something be- 
sides grouse.” 


‘What Won’t Be Led” , 167 

‘‘ Never mind. Deer liver for supper to-night/’ 
said Chet. 

‘‘ And the tongue. That’s a fat doe ; there’ll be 
plenty of kidney suet to fry the meat in. Whew! 
I’m hungry now,” cried Digby. 

“ Never saw such a disgracefully hungry person 
in my life,” declared his chum. ‘‘ Always thinking 
of your stomach.” 

They did not see the wolves again as they came 
out upon the edge of the great prairie. Indeed, 
they saw no animal. The prairie rolled away be- 
fore them as far as they could see. To the north 
and to the south were lines of hills; but a haze al- 
most hid the higher Rockies toward which they 
were bound. 

Chet stopped at a stream and they filled fheir can- 
teens. 

“ Try to be careful with it,” he advised Digby. 
‘‘We’re not sure that we shall reach another stream 
to camp beside. I’m not so sure of the trail from 
here on, anyway.” 

“ I’ll get a good drink right here, then,” said his 
chum, climbing carefully down. 

With the maverick to take care of he had to be 
cautious as to his movements. It was not safe to 


1 68 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

leave the lead-rope tied to the fork of his saddle, 
for if the calf pulled when the saddle was empty. 
Poke immediately backed around preparatory to 
throwing his heels at the blatting young calf. 

Now Dig kneeled down at the edge of the stream 
above where the horses were drinking. Stone 
Fence had dropped down on the grass, chewing a 
cud, but evidently tired. The run had been a hard 
one for him. 

Poke lifted his head, ‘‘ blew ’’ softly, and felt the 
tug of the leash at his saddle. The black’s wicked 
ears shot backward and he turned his head to mark 
the place where Stone Fence contentedly chewed his 
cud. 

Look out. Dig! ” cried Chet, who was just rais- 
ing himself into his own saddle. 

But his chum’s head was down for another drink. 
He did not hear. 

The maverick scrambled up with a snort of fright 
as the black horse whirled upon him. Dig tried to 
get up just as quickly; but when he put his weight 
upon a turf at the brink of the stream, the sod broke 
away and down he plunged, with his right arm into 
the water to his arm-pit. 


“What Won’t Be Led” 169 

‘‘ Oh — ouch ! ” gurgled Dig. What's the mat- 
ter now ? " 

'‘Trouble!" called Chet. 

But, as Dig claimed afterward, that was no fit 
warning. He didn’t know whether he was being 
attacked from behind, before, on either flank, from 
the sky above, or whether trouble was rising out of 
the ground. 

And it seemed as though it had come from all 
points when it reached him. Dig was trying to rise 
when the calf, escaping Poke’s vicious hoofs, col- 
lided with his young master. Ker-splash ! they were 
both in the stream ! 

The calf was scared fully as much as Dig, if not 
more. Both bawled and splashed about, unable to 
obtain their footing at first, and had Chet not dis- 
mounted and run to the assistance of the pair, one 
or the other might have remained under water 
longer than would have been good for him. 

The rope had become wound about Dig’s legs in 
some mysterious way, and the calf was tangled up in 
a regular " cat’s cradle.’’ 

" I declare I ’’ said Chet Havens, with disgust as 
well as laughter. " I never saw anybody do so 


170 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

much and to so little purpose with a rope in all my 
life. For goodness’ sake, Dig! come out of that 
water. You’re a sight!” 

‘‘I — I don’t f-feel much b-b-better than I — I 
look/’ chattered his chum. “ That water’s cold, 
lemme t-tell you.” 

‘"I know it’s wet — from just looking at you,” 
proclaimed young Havens. ‘‘ You’re in fine shape 
for riding. What are you going to do with that 
blamed calf now? ” 

“ Take him to Grub Stake,” said Dig obstinately. 

You can ride on without me, if you want to, Chet. 
But Stone Fence is going to be my companion if I 
spend the rest of the summer on the trail.” 

He would not remount then, however, but made 
Poke trail on behind him while he urged the com- 
plaining Stone Fence with a willow wand. Besides, 
the sun would dry his garments better when he 
walked, and the exercise kept him from becoming 
chilled. 

“ Gee ! Haw ! ” he was soon calling to the year- 
ling, teaching him to turn from side to side as the 
case might be. “ Never too young to learn,” Dig 
confided to his chum. ‘‘ Mebbe somebody will want 
to work him with a bull-team.” 


‘What Won’t Be Led” 


171 

Chet rode ahead and scanned the prairie carefully. 
The trail they were supposed to follow was only a 
faint trace now. He knew the general direction to 
go, and he carried a compass. He did not think 
he could get lost ; but he was watching the plain for 
signs of a water-hole. The sun was descending, 
and they must camp before dark. 

Besides, Chet was looking for signs of disturbing 
animals now. Having seen the old she-wolf and 
her young, he expected to find other — and perhaps 
more dangerous — creatures on the plain. 

An hour later he spied some low shrubs which 
seemed to follow a watercourse between two coulies. 
The shrubs were green and thrifty, although they 
did not mark a very extensive stream. It might be 
merely a water-hole which had not yet dried up. 
However, Chet was quite sure it would afford the 
party all the water they needed for one night. 

So he led the way off the trail. Even Stone 
Fence seemed to know that the day’s journey was 
nearly over. He trotted on more placidly, and the 
horses quickened their pace. 

They had made but small progress that day. 
However, with all the set-backs and delays it was 
fortunate that they had come this far. 


172 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

The water was a narrow stream trickling between 
willows and other moisture-loving shrubs. They 
made camp and started a fire very quickly. They 
cut up the doe Chet had shot and all the dainty 
parts that Dig clamoured for were prepared for the 
skillet, while the flayed haunches and shoulders were 
hung high in the saplings, out of the way (as the 
boys thought) of any marauding beast. 

'' Tell you what,” Chet said, if your calf doesn’t 
draw the wolves down here, the smell of that fresh 
venison will do the trick. Watch and watch to- 
night, boy.” 

Oh, Chet ! what’s the use ? I’m tired,” yawned 
his chum. 

I should think you would be paddling on after 
that fool calf! But expect no sympathy from me,” 
and Chet insisted upon tethering the horses near the 
camp instead of letting them roam, hobbled. 

By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land 1 ” Dig exclaimed, “ why don’t you build a 
stockade and build a big bonfire ? One would think 
you were expecting a whole drove of savage beasts 
down here.” 

Just then a mournful wail came down the wind 


^What Won’t Be Led” 173 

— a shuddering cry that made Dig start and hold 
suspended the piece of meat he had upon his fork, 
Wha — what’s that? A coyote?” demanded 

Dig. 

That’s one of your friends,” said Chet grimly. 
It’s the call of a hungry wolf. You can expect 
him and his gang early.” 

Stone Fence bawled where he was tethered nearby, 
instinctively knowing that there was danger near. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE WOLF RING 

The howling of the lone wolf, however, did not 
take the boys’ appetites away. Fresh venison is 
rather tough until it has hung awhile ; but the parts 
of the kill Chet and Dig ate that night were tender 
and succulent. The steaks they would not try until 
the next day. 

There’s a whole lot more than we can eat our- 
selves,” said Chet. “ But some other party may 
come along and be glad of a haunch.” 

“ Ugh ! ” grunted Dig. “ There’s that party 
talking up in the hills. He’ll be around for his 
share,” as the long-drawn wail of the wolf shud- 
dered again across the gathering night. 

The cry of the wolf made the horses nervous, 
too; they kept stepping around instead of grazing 
at the end of their tethers. As for the yearling, 
he tried to answer bawl for bawl — and so led the 
wolf on. 

I never did realise before how big a fool a calf 
174 


The Wolf Ring 175 

can be/’ said Dig, reviewing his strenuous day. 
‘‘ But say ! let’s smoke one of the hams.” 

‘‘ How ? ” demanded Chet. 

‘‘ Hang it over the fire, of course,” returned the 
sanguine Digby. 

And who’s going to find the proper kind of 
wood to smoke it without merely blackening the 
meat with soot? And who’s going to sit up all 
night and watch the fire? Besides, it would take 
three or four nights to smoke a ham properly. I 
hope we’ll shoot other game before we get to Grub 
Stake.” 

‘‘ Oh, well, I only threw it out as a hint,” sighed 
Dig. “ Nothing I say goes.” 

Not even your maverick, eh?” chuckled Chet. 

They cleared up after supper and then Chet ad- 
vised Dig to get into his blanket and get two hours’ 
sleep. 

Don’t believe that wolf will be down here,” Dig 
mumbled. ‘‘No need to keep wa-wa-watch — 
Waugh!” and he stretched his jaws in a mighty 
gape. 

“ All right,” returned Chet. “ You’re welcome 
to your belief. But I’ll keep first watch, and if I 
hear nothing alarming, I won’t wake you up.” 


176 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

He was satisfied at first to go to the horses and 
see that they were picketed all right. He did not 
want either of them to get entangled in the rope and 
so get a burn. For that might lame them, and a 
lame horse on the trail is no happy chance. 

The howling of the wolf up in the hill made the 
horses restless; but the maverick finally got tired 
and lay down again. Chet returned to the fire. 
His chum was already breathing heavily. The ac- 
tivities of the day had tired him out. Dig wasn’t 
exactly soft,” but he was not innured to an out-of- 
door life as Chet was. Besides, he had several 
pounds of superfluous flesh to carry around. 

His sleep was healthful, however; in the flicker- 
ing firelight his bronzed face was calm. 

Good old scout ! ” thought Chet, watching him. 
'‘And heaps of fun! But he’s as obstinate as a 
toad — one of those whom he says were chased out 
of Ireland! I don’t know what I’d do without 
Dig.’^ 

The evening had shut down now, damp and still. 
Frogs complained somewhere along the edge of 
the narrow stream. Sleepy birds croaked now and 
then. Night insects sang. 

Then came the long, haunting howl of the wolf 


The Wolf Ring 177 

from the heights. Every other sound seemed to 
hush while the howl endured. 

A reply came from far out on the prairie; then 
a third wolf took up the cry from another direction. 
The pack was gathering. 

Chet drew his heavy rifle closer and examined the 
hammer. It was well greased and the mechanism 
was working perfectly. But he put the rifle aside. 
He was not going to waste expensive ammunition 
on such useless creatures as wolves — if he could 
help it. 

It was on his pistol that he depended to drive off 
marauders. He spun the cylinder and then tucked 
in the sixth cartridge. It was fully loaded now 
and he laid the gun down upon his dry blanket. It 
was as dangerous as a loaded bomb, for the plains- 
man never carried a gun fully loaded unless in time 
of stress or peril. 

The horses stamped, and Poke nickered. But 
Dig slept on. His chum got up, pistol in hand, and 
slowly patrolled the camp again. Of course the 
wolves were not near as yet; nor were they giving 
tongue. 

Chet had had some experience on the trail; and 
he had listened to many stories related by old plains- 


178 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

men, but he did not know much about wolves, after 
all. He expected the pack to try to rush the camp, 
and to come up yelling like a band of wild In- 
dians. 

When the animals, which seemed to be gathering 
from all sides of the camp, ceased howling, he was 
puzzled. He wondered what had become of the 
wolves. Perhaps they had gone off on some other 
scent. Perhaps they had crossed the track of a deer 
and it had drawn them away frorh the camp. 

The horses were still uneasy, and now Stone 
Fence scrambled up and leaped at the end of his 
rope, bawling pitifully. Something near at hand 
disturbed the animals, whose instinct and sense of 
smell were far superior to the boy’s sight and hear- 
ing. 

Chet could see nothing; nor could he hear any- 
thing. Yet the restlessness of the horses and the 
calf kept him alert. He went around the camp 
again, and afterwards replenished the fire. He 
wished he had prepared more fuel. It was warm 
and they did not really need the fire; but at night 
a blaze in the open is company. 

He went to Hero and quieted him, petting him 
and talking to him. Poke still stamped. Out on 


The Wolf Ring 179 

the open prairie, beyond the fringe of willows, Chet 
thought he saw something moving. He was 
tempted to send a shot in that direction, 

‘‘ But that will wake Dig. And it’s only nerv- 
ousness,” thought the boy. ‘‘ Huh ! I must be 
afraid of the dark.” 

He went back to the fire and sat down. There 
was the bole of a small tree at his back. The po- 
sition was tempting. 

But the restlessness of the yearling precluded 
sleep. The little beast strained at the end of its 
tether, headed toward the fire, and blatted plain- 
tively. 

“ My goodness ! but you are a scared calf,” Chet 
muttered, rising again. 

And then, just over the line of the calf’s strain- 
ing back, he saw the gleam of two eyes in the edge 
of the thicket. 

Chet Havens sprang up on the instant, and as 
he sprang he fired. He didn’t have to aim, for those 
eyes looked as big as saucers to him ! 

There was a shrill howl from the stricken beast. 
Chet’s ball had punctured its breast as it threw up 
its head. Answering howls came from all about 
the camp. It was ringed with the savage brutes 


i8o The Trail Boys of the Plains 

that had gathered silently in expectation of the 
killing. 

The pistol shot, the wolf’s howl, and the maver- 
ick’s bawling awoke Dig. He scrambled up,, con- 
fused and dreaming. 

“ Don’t kill him 1 don’t kill him, Chet ! ” he 
begged. The poor thing hasn’t bucked you into 
the brook.” 

“ You bet I killed him,” returned his chum, and 
the next instant fired again. 

‘‘ But, Chet,” squealed his chum. “ You don’t 
need to shoot him after he’s dead. Save your 
powder and lead — 

‘‘Whew! what’s happened? Stone Fence seems 
to be all right.” 

“ And if I hadn’t shot Mr. Wolf just in the nick 
of time. Stone Fence would have been slaughtered 
to make a lupine holiday,” chuckled Chet. 
“ They’ve run, the cowardly scoundrels.” 

“ Thought you said they weren’t cowards ? ” 
yawned Dig. 

“ They’re not hungry enough to be brave yet. 
In the dead of winter, however, they’d have come 
right in to the fire and fought for the calf. Shorten 
the tether on him. Dig. And I’ll bring the horses 


The Wolf Ring i8i 

nearer. I don’t like these beasts. They sneak in 
too close for comfort.” 

“ Say ! you’ve waked me up now,” grumbled' Dig. 
‘‘ Might as well stay awake. I’ll keep watch. 
What time is it ? ” 

‘‘ Wake me at midnight,” Chet said, not at all 
loath to give his partner a bit of work. 

He rolled up in his blanket; but he did not sleep 
at first, although he closed his eyes. Dig did not 
make any particular noise, but he kept stirring 
around the camp. The horses and the yearling re- 
mained quiet for a long time. 

Dig was getting tired of his vigil. He slumped 
down with his back to the same tree against which 
Chet had rested. Then — one, two, three, and he 
was off! A long snore, and he was in the Land of 
Nod. 

Save for the boys’ breathing the camp was still. 
Stone Fence probably dozed as he lay at the end of 
his tether. The horses were grazing again. 

But if nothing else, the smell of their brother’s 
blood would have brought the wolves back. They 
skulked along the watercourse and at the edge of 
the thicket. The flickering firelight did not frighten 
them. 


1 82 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

They gave the horses a wide berth, for they 
feared their heels. The yearling was lying within 
the radiance of the firelight. The wolves sur- 
rounded the camp once more; but they drew near 
only at one point. 

The beasts are not averse to licking the bones of 
their own kind. The dead wolf, that Chet had shot, 
drew them. And nearby hung the venison in the 
tops of the saplings. 

Silently at first; then with muffled growls and 
the snapping of slavering jaws, the wolves fought 
over their comrade. There were a dozen and more 
of them. The horses moved uneasily, and the year- 
ling struggled up again ; but the boys slept. 

One lank and hungry brute smelled the hanging 
deer flesh and slunk away to the spot. He leaped 
for it — again and yet again. 

Chet had no idea how high a wolf could jump. 
He thought he had hung the meat out of reach of 
every marauder ; but Mr. Wolf did not think so. 

The horses and Stone Fence became quiet again. 
The chums sunk together into a deeper sleep. The 
fire burned down to mere embers. 

Perhaps something occurred to make the wolves 
beat a silent retreat; at least, they left the vicinity 


The Wolf Ring 183 

of the encampment without raising another alarm. 
If the horses were now and then uneasy, ‘ their 
stamping did not awake Chet and Dig. 

The day’s activities had exhausted the chums. 
Once asleep, Chet slept as heavily as Digby. Noth- 
ing occurred to arouse them until daybreak; then 
Chet awoke suddenly, sat up, threw off his blanket, 
and looked about in surprise. 

Say, you sleepy-headed coot ! ” he roared, fling- 
ing an empty milk-can at the still sleeping Dig. 
‘‘What d’ye mean — sleeping like this? You 
never woke me up.” 

“Ugh! Huh?” demanded Dig. “You ought 
to thank me for that, then.” 

“ You’d make k nice soldier! ” 

“ Never claimed to be a soldier, and didn’t expect 
to go soldiering when I came out on the trail with 
you,” declared Dig belligerently. “ I guess you’ll 
find everything all right. And you slept just as 
hard as I did.” 

“ Sha’n’t trust you to keep watch again,” said 
Chet. 

“ Well, that’s a good thing! By the last hoptoad 
that was chased out of Ireland ! I don’t want to keep 
watch.” 


184 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

But Chet was serious. He saw that the horses 
and the calf were safe. But when he went into the 
thicket, he saw that the dead wolf had been dragged 
away to a distance and there torn to bits. Only red 
bones and bits of fur remained. 

Then he remembered the haunches of venison 
left hanging to cool. He ran to the spot. Only 
a single ham hung in the top of a sapling. The 
others had been torn down. The tops of the sap- 
lings were broken, supposedly by the wolves as they 
leaped for the meat. 

At Chet’s first cry Dig came running. 

“ Now you can see what was done while you 
slept,” said young Havens, with disgust. 

“ Whew ! The miserable, thieving beasts ! ” 
burst out Dig. ‘‘ Wish I’d caught ’em at it — ” 

"‘You were snoozing your head off,” was his 
chum’s accusation. “ That’s when this happened.” 

He suddenly became silent, however. He bent 
over and examined the disturbed ground underneath 
the spot where the lost meat had hung. Then he 
glanced keenly all about. 

“ Hold on. Dig,” he said softly, waving his chum 
back. “ Don’t step in any nearer.” 

“What’s the matter?” queried his surprised 


The Wolf Ring 185 

friend. See a wolf print that you know ? An old 
friend, for instance?’’ 

“ Wait,” begged Chet again. “ I see something 
besides wolf-paw prints.” 

“ What, for goodness’ sake ? ” demanded the 
other, startled. 

The print of boots — men’s boots.” 

‘‘ Get out!” 

“ I tell you at least one man has been here.” 

Pshaw! our own footprints! You gave me a 
scare, Chet.” 

“ No,” Chet said earnestly. “ I see our marks. 
But a person with a much bigger foot has been here. 
See that? and that? Some stranger. I — I’m not 
sure that we have been robbed by wolves, after all. 
Dig.” 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! ” gasped the other boy. “ What do you 
mean? Who could have robbed us? I don’t un- 
derstand, Chet.” 

“ Neither do I,” returned young Havens. “ Don’t 
come this way and foul the marks any more. Let’s 
see where this fellow came from, and where he 
went to.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


A MYSTERY 

Chet Havens had been an apt pupil of old Rafe 
Peters, the hunter who was now mine foreman at 
the Silent Sue; nor had he missed much that had 
been told him by other plainsmen. Trailing and 
hunting was a hobby with the boy, and each vaca- 
tion for several years past he had spent the most of 
his time on hunting trips. 

With Digby Fordham he had taken many short 
trips around Silver Run; but they had seldom en- 
countered big game or gone many miles from their 
home. This trip to Grub Stake was by far the 
longest the chums had ever taken alone. 

It was Chet’s trained eye that discovered the fact 
that a marauder other than the wolves had been at 
their camp. Had it been left to Dig, who was not 
observant, the presence of any other enemy than 
that which had annoyed them in the evening prob- 
ably would never have been discovered. 

‘‘ Could it have been those Indians, Chet? ” asked 
Dig, as his chum bent to examine the ground closely. 

i86 


A Mystery 187 

‘‘ What Indians ? ” 

‘‘ John Peep’s dog soldiers.” 

“Nonsense! Those boys wouldn’t play us such 
a trick. Nor did they follow us.” 

“ Huh ! Didn’t know that anybody else was fol- 
lowing us,” said Dig. 

“ Perhaps this fellow wasn’t on our trail. Maybe 
he stumbled on this camp. The fire — or the wolves 
themselves — might have drawn him.” 

Chet was thinking hard, however. At once, when 
he had discovered the footprint which proclaimed a 
white marauder, he remembered what Amoshee, the 
lame Cheyenne boy, had told him. 

There was a strange man who was interested in 
the old Crayton mine and therefore was interested 
in this trip to Grub Stake. This stranger had 
joined forces with the discharged Tony Traddles. 
Chet had heard Tony himself threaten Mr. Havens 
and declare he would “ get square ” with his former 
employer. 

Chet looked at the print of the large boot in the 
soft soil. Tony Traddles might stand in boots like 
that. And if Tony was here, the man who was try- 
ing to get hold of the old Crayton mine was very 
likely here, too. 


1 88 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

The condition looked serious to Chet Havens. 
He did not want to say anything yet to his chum; 
but he did propose to keep a sharp watch there- 
after. 

He was desirous, too, of learning all he could 
about the midnight marauder. If the mysterious 
person had stolen only some of the deer meat, why 
had he taken it? 

And if he had come as near the camp as this, why 
hadn’t he come nearer ? 

With both of us sound asleep,” thought Chet, 
with disgust, they might have come in and taken 
anything they liked. It puzzles me ! ” 

He placed his hand upon the bosom of his shirt 
and could feel the stiff packet of papers he carried 
in its accustomed place. His apprehension was im- 
mediately relieved. 

“ Pshaw ! ” Chet muttered. “ This might not 
have been Tony or that other fellow at all. Just 
some tramp or the like on the trail, who was attracted 
to our camp. Probably needed meat and helped 
himself. 

But it was funny he didn’t wait till daylight and 
come and ask for it.” 

While he was turning these thoughts over in his 


A Mystery i8c| 

mind he was moving through the thicket, turning 
aside bushes, looking under bunches of grass, peer- 
ing here and there, to trace the tracks of the 
stranger. 

And they were easy to follow — even for a 
youthful trailer like Chet Havens. A spoor made 
in the night must be less carefully laid down than 
a track by daylight. Not much chance to hide foot- 
prints while stumbling through the dark. 

Chet saw how the stranger had come into the 
thicket, and how he had left. He had not gone 
near the camp and the place where the sleeping boys 
lay. Chet was so sure of this that he did not at- 
tempt to examine very closely the camp itself. 

He was sure, however, the marauder had robbed 
them of the bulk of their meat. The in trace and 
the out trace led directly up the slope from the 
brook beside which they were encamped, to the trail 
they were following to Grub Stake. 

There, as near as Chet could make out, two horses 
had stood. He could not discover, the sod was so 
cut up, whether both, or only one, of the riders had 
dismounted. 

He could picture the possible happening, however. 
In the night the two riders had come along from 


190 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

the east. They were following the trail in the same 
direction as the boys. 

Hearing the noise made by the wolves over their 
dead brother, the strange trailers stopped, and one 
of them had gone down to investigate. The wolves 
had been frightened away by the coming of this 
person. 

The stranger must have found the camp, but had 
circled about it — as his footprints showed. Find- 
ing the meat, he had helped himself and returned to 
the trail, then he and his partner had ridden on. 

‘‘ The mystery of it is,’’ said Chet to his chum, 
when he returned to the camp to find breakfast 
started, ‘‘ why the fellow robbed us of meat and 
didn’t try to take anything more valuable. I hope 
you see the value of keeping watch now. Dig? ” 

Yes, I do ! ” agreed his chum, with more seri- 
ousness than he usually displayed. “ I’ll take my 
medicine for that break last night, old man. If I 
had kept my watch and waked you, nobody would 
have sneaked up on our camp and stolen our meat.” 

“ Glad they left us this piece,” Chet said, slicing 
off steaks with his hunting knife. 

They seasoned the meat highly and rubbed tallow 
on both sides. Then they broiled the steaks over 


A Mystery 19 1 

the clear fire on one of the ‘‘contraptions” which 
Dig had laughed at his chum for packing. They 
had coffee; but the pancake flour was gone, and 
there were only a few “ hard-breads.” 

Hearty boys, however, do not need tempting 
dishes for breakfast. There was still milk for the 
coffee, and as Dig said, they fairly “ wolfed ” the 
venison steaks. The sun was not an hour high 
when they abandoned the camping place and started 
for the trail. 

Chet was particularly eager to reach the trail, for 
he wished to follow the trace of the strangers who 
had robbed them; and when he saw Dig fussing 
with Stone Fence, he exclaimed : 

“For pity’s sake! don’t delay us to-day by fool- 
ing with that calf. Dig. Do be reasonable.” 

“ What do you think he is — a race horse ? ” de- 
manded the other boy, in feigned amazement. 
“ Can’t expect him to trot like Maud S., or Yellow- 
dock. You surprise me! ” 

“ ril surprise you if I ride off on Hero and leave 
you and your plaguey calf to bring up the rear,” 
threatened Chet. 

“You couldn’t be so heartless,” declared Dig. 
“ I know you couldn’t. We have been in peril to- 


192 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

gather — Stone Fence and 1. We came pretty near 
being drowned, and then, there were the wolves. 
I feel toward him just like a brother — Get out, 
you beast! want to butt me over again? ” 

They got under way and Chet set as brisk a pace 
as possible. He did not want to leave his chum and 
the maverick behind; yet he was a little vexed at 
Dig for being so obstinate. 

The morning was delightful, however; nobody 
could hold anger at such an hour. The boys 
whistled and sang and skylarked ; the horses snorted 
and stepped high, wide and handsome,’^ as Dig 
called it; and even Stone Fence trotted along the 
trail without much urging. 

They had not to be on the watch for game this 
day, for they had enough of the deer meat left to 
last them until over breakfast the following morn- 
ing. Yet Chet’s glance was ever roving over the 
plain as they went on. No trace of the venison 
thieves was to be found. 

The hills were behind them; the mountains were 
so far in advance that a blue haze masked them. 
Nearby groves of small trees marked water-holes; 
but there was no stream in sight. 

Plain ” did not mean in this case a perfectly 




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A Mystery 193 

flat surface. There were coulies to break the mo- 
notony of the level trail, or ancient watercourses to 
descend into and climb out of. Once they came 
to the edge of a steep sand-bluff, after having ridden 
up a gradual ascent to this eminence. From the 
spot they could see vastly farther than before. 

It was from here that Chet spied something far 
to the north that interested him. He carried a pair 
of field-glasses in a case slung from one shoulder. 
He opened these and focused them on the round, 
black objects that had attracted his attention. 

With the naked eye they looked like beehives, 
and they did not seem to move. But through the 
glass they were not conical, and they were travel- 
ling toward the northeast. They all moved to- 
gether, but slowly; there could be no doubt of that. 

“ What’s got you now ? ” demanded Dig, finally 
noticing that his chum was fixed in one position for 
a long time. 

“ Look here,” Chet said, offering him the glasses. 

Well, look out for Stone Fence,” returned Dig, 
and urged Poke nearer to the bay mount, while he 
reached for the glasses. 

“ Fix them on those dots over yonder,” advised 
Chet. ‘‘ Now, look good.” 


194 Trail Boys of the Plains 

Dig did so. In a minute he exclaimed: 

Cattle grazing ! ” 

Think so?” 

“ Sure. Maybe Stone Fence belongs to that 
herd.” 

‘‘ But to whom does the herd belong? ” demanded 
Chet. We know well enough that there is no 
ranch nearer than the Ogallala. Those are not 
strays from the cattle trail. Weak and crippled 
cattle that are abandoned on the march fall an easy 
prey to wolves and lions.” 

“ What do you make of it, then? ” demanded Dig. 

‘‘Look at the round backs of them; the size of 
them, too. No cattle that I ever saw are built like 
those. They certainly are not Texans or the sun 
would flash on their horns now and then when they 
toss their heads. It doesn’t look as though those 
creatures have any horns.” 

“Oh, say!” cried Dig. “That’s going too far! 
We couldn’t see their horns from here, if they had 
’em a mile wide ! ” 

“ That’s stretching it some,” said Chet, laughing 
and reaching for the glasses again. 

“ But what do you really think they are ? ” de- 
manded Dig, growing more and more excited. 


A Mystery 195 

Going to find out,” announced Chet. 

“Oh, goodness, Chet! You don’t think — ” 

“ I’m going to find out what they are,” repeated 
the other lad firmly. 

“ By all the hoptoads that were chased out of 
Ireland I you don’t mean to say that you think those 
are buffaloes ? Oh, Chet I ” 

“ I certainly don’t think they are hoptoads,” 
grinned his chum. “ I’m not sure what they are, 
but I’m going to find out.” He slipped out of the 
saddle, to ease it on Hero’s back and then cinch it 
up for a hard ride. 

“Whew! you’re not going to leave me alone?” 
gasped Dig. “Why, it’s miles and miles over 
yonder.” 

“ Come on, then.” 

“But what’ll I do with Stone Fence?” blurted 
out Dig. 

“ Say, boy ! ” said Chet shortly, “ this is the 
parting of the ways for you and that red dogy. 
You’ve had your fun. Now this is business.” 

“ Have I got to decide between a perfectly good 
yearling calf and a possible buffalo? Seems a hard 
case,” groaned Dig. “ I bet I could sell him for 
five dollars.” 


196 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ WeVe got to turn back a little on our trail to 
follow those beasts yonder/' Chet said. “ It’s 
likely we’ll hit the trail again about here. Turn 
Stone Fence loose down in this sandy bottom. 
There’s enough grass to feed him a year and I see 
a trickle of water yonder. He’ll be all right. If 
he’s learned to love you, Dig, he’ll be waiting for 
you when we return.” 

‘‘ I’ll do just that,” cried Dig eagerly, and he 
urged the obstinate maverick down the slope. 

He was back in ten minutes after abandoning the 
surprised calf at the foot of the bluff. The crea- 
ture gazed after his human companions and the 
horses with plain surprise in his bovine countenance. 

Finally, as Dig and the black horse surmounted 
the rise, Stone Fence spread all four of his legs and 
blatted after him like a cosset calf. 

What do you knoV about that ? I hate to 
leave him in the lurch,” declared Dig. “ Some 
beast’ll get him, sure as shooting, Chet.” 

“ He was exempt from trouble long before you 
met him. Dig,” said Chet, smiling. “ I’m not sure 
that he considers you, even yet, his guardian angel.” 

They rearranged their outfit, tightened cinches, 
and remounted. The black specks were quite visi- 


197 


A Mystery 

ble to the naked eye; but they were moving slowly 
northeast. The boys shook the reins and let Hero 
and Poke point into the wind at an easy canter. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


ROYAL GAME 

Chet was just as eager and excited as he could be. 
Dig appeared to be doubtful of the identity of the 
moving herd they had spied so far away; never- 
theless, he felt that the venture was momentous. 

The chums had not hunted big game frequently 
enough to approach this strange herd of grazing 
animals with calmness. Their pulses throbbed and 
their faces flushed. They were both on the qui 
vive. 

'‘If it should be the buffaloes, Chet,” gasped 
Digby Fordham, " what’ll we do?” 

" Shake salt on their tails,” grinned Chet, " as 
you suggested doing to the antelope.” 

" No fooling,” Dig urged. " They’ll be danger- 
ous, won’t they? ” 

“If we get them mad, I reckon they will be. 
But they are very timid at the approach of man. 
And if they get started on the run — good-bye! 
We couldn’t catch them unless our horses were very 
fresh. That’s why we must take the trip over to 
198 


Royal Game 199 

their feeding ground easily. We may have to gal- 
lop to get a shot.^' 

‘‘ If they are the buffaloes/' added the Doubting 
Thomas. 

“If they are not the buffaloes, they’ll be some- 
thing well worth shooting,” Chet said with confi- 
dence. “ I don’t know of anything else that size 
that roams these plains.” 

They had ridden several miles off the trail now, 
and the humped backs of the grazing animals were 
quite plainly visible. 

“ Suppose they see us ? ” suggested Dig suddenly. 

“ From what I’ve heard about the buffaloes, 
there’s not much danger. You see, they are headed 
away from us and are grazing. When their heads 
are down they can’t see much going on right about 
them, and nothing at all at a distance. A buffalo 
herd sets no sentinels as do elk or wild horses.” 

“ But if they get a scent of us? ” 

“ Wind’s from them. It’s blowing in our faces, 
isn’t it? Just the same, we’ll creep up on them like 
a cat on a mouse,” Chet agreed. “After a while, 
we’ll keep to the coulies and gullies, and go at a 
slower pace. This is a great chance. Dig. If we 
each brought home a buffalo robe — eh ? ” 


200 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ Whew ! breathed Dig exultantly. 

Or shot the big fellow they say captains this 
herd ? ’’ went on Chet. 

‘‘ Oh, come on ! '' exclaimed Dig. You make 
my mouth water.’’ 

They had stopped for no midday meal; nor did 
Dig complain of this loss. Not at present, at least. 
He was quite as much worked up over the hunt as 
his chum. 

“ Just think of it,” Chet said, after a time, “ I 
was reading a book the other evening that quoted 
‘Fremont, the Pathfinder’ as saying that in 1836 
one travelling from the Rockies to the Missouri 
River never lost sight of grazing buffaloes.” 

“ Whew!” 

“ The old emigrant trails were marked for years 
and years by the whitened skulls of buffaloes, wan- 
tonly killed by the travellers. Everybody who came 
West wanted to say that he had shot a buffalo. 
Why, Dig! they used to roam all this great United 
States from the Pacific Slope to Lake Champlain. 
The last buffalo was killed east of the Mississippi 
River in 1832.” 

“ And now it’s hard to find any of ’em,” said Dig. 
“ Where have they gone ? ” 


201 


Royal Game 

“ Indiscriminate killing/’ replied Chet. “ So the 
books say. Yet in 1859 some people estimated that 
there were more buffaloes grazing these ranges than 
there were cattle in the whole country. 

Of course, the Indians slaughtered many of 
them. They were the only beef the redmen had. 
The prairie Indians — the Comanches, Sioux and 
Pawnees — just about lived on buffalo meat all the 
year around. And their skins covered their winter 
teepees, clothed them in cold weather, and otherwise 
were made useful. Their hoofs made glue and their 
tendons were used by the squaws to sew with. Yes 
indeed ! a buffalo was a mighty useful animal to a 
redskin.” 

Well,” sighed Dig, a buffalo is going to be a 
mighty useful animal to you and me, Chet — if we 
shoot one. Why, say ! there won’t be another fellow 
in Silver Run who can show a buffalo head for a 
trophy.” 

Well,” Chet said, ‘‘ if you propose to cart head 
and all back to town you’ll have some contract, boy. 
I believe the head of a bull buffalo will weigh al- 
most as much as the rest of his body.” 

‘‘Whew!” 

“ That’s what makes of him such, a good batter- 


202 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

ing-ram. They say a blow from the head of a two- 
months calf will knock a man over. Suppose Stone 
Fence had been a buffalo calf. When he rammed 
you into that creek you’d have been drowned.” 

‘‘ Huh ! That’s straining a point,” replied Dig. 
‘‘ You can bet I’m not going to get in front of any 
of the creatures.” 

‘‘ And that’s where you’ll be wise. Especially if 
you want to shoot one,” Chet observed. ‘‘ You 
might pump every ball in your rifle at the front of 
an old bull, and he’d only shake his head and whisk 
his tail like a horse bit by a fly. A bullet won’t 
bring down a bull, unless you are too close for com- 
fort. Behind the foreleg is the place to aim at.” 

Very well, Davy Crockett,” returned Dig. I 
have taken your advice to heart.” 

Nevertheless, Digby admired his chum greatly be- 
cause of Chet’s wider reading and better memory 
for practical things. Of course, Chet had been read- 
ing up on buffaloes ever since Rafe Peters and Tony 
Traddles reported seeing the stray herd near the 
Grub Stake trail. 

“ Though I never expected that we’d sight them,” 
admitted Dig. Whew ! Suppose we do bag one 
of them, old man? ” 


Royal Game 203 

‘‘ That's what we're out here for," his chum said. 

Wait now till I spy out the land again." 

He stood up in his stirrups and looked through 
the field-glasses. The focus of the instrument 
brought the group of feeding buffaloes very near. 
Chet counted them twice to make sure. 

"" Sixteen, Dig ! " he said, under his breath. “ My 
goodness, boy ! Wait till we get up to them." 

Do you see the big fellow ? Or was that a yarn 
of Tony's? I wouldn't believe that fellow on a 
stack of Bibles as high as the moon." 

‘‘ Rafe saw the big bull, too. Goodness ! there 
he is!" 

“ Where ? " asked Dig, looking around, startled, 
as though expecting to see the buffalo right at hand. 

“ He's been feeding off by himself. He is com- 
ing from behind that clump of shrubs. Look at 
the monster, Dig! " 

He handed the glasses quickly to his chum. The 
latter focused them and almost immediately uttered 
his favourite ejaculation : 

By the last hoptoad that was chased out of 
Ireland ! That's an elephant — not a buffalo, Chet." 

‘‘ Aren't you glad you brought that heavy rifle, 
old man ? " 


204 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ I wish it were a cannon,” admitted Dig, in 
amazement at the size of the big buffalo. 

He was grazing with his side toward the approach- 
ing hunters, and for several minutes Chet and Dig 
both gazed upon him through the glasses. His 
hump was enormous, and so shaggy that he looked 
as big as an overland freight wagon, painted 
black. 

Of course, close to, the buffalo would have been 
found to be brown — of various shades. The mane 
is the darker — sometimes almost black, in fact. 
The bull is much darker than the cow. 

The great shoulders, neck and head, covered with 
thick, matted hair to the eyes, make a threatening 
front for any unsophisticated hunter to face. Dig 
admitted his distaste for the prospect. 

‘T’ll take your word for it, old man,” he said to 
his chum. ‘Tf I get a shot you can bet it will be 
from the side. I don’t want that battering-ram 
headed for me when I fire. I certainly should have 
what old Rafe calls elk fever.” 

‘‘ Stage fright, I reckon ! ” agreed his chum. 

‘‘ But say 1 ” Dig asked, ‘‘ where are his horns ? 
I don’t see any.” 

‘‘ And you’ll not till you’re on top of him,” Chet 


Royal Game 205 

replied. The horns are no bigger than a two year 
old steer’s. But he can bunt with ’em.” 

“ Aren’t you right! Whew! let’s be careful how 
we approach those creatures.” 

'‘We will be just that,” agreed Chet. " Now 
come on, boy ; give me the glasses. See that every- 
thing is all right; don’t let any of the tinware joggle. 
Is your rifle all right? Button your revolver tight 
in the holster. A six-shooter won’t do you any 
more good than a pea-shooter with those shaggy 
fellows. This old rifle of father’s is the boy to 
depend on.” 

" I’m ready,” said Dig, and they let the impatient 
horses go again. 

They rode, on sod, and that silenced the hoof- 
beats to a degree. When they were all of two miles 
from the buffalo herd they pulled in and only walked 
their mounts. And they did not see the buffaloes 
again for nearly an hour, for they kept to the low 
places in the plain. 

At last Chet left his horse in Dig’s care and 
reconnoitred by creeping up the side of a coulie on 
hands and knees. When he saw the first buffalo 
he ducked quickly, fearful that he had been seen. 
It was a young bull, not more than half grown; but 


2 o 6 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

it looked larger than any horse Chet had ever seen. 

He could have made a clean shot at that animal ; 
but Chet had not brought his gun with him. He had 
not expected to find any of the herd so near. Nor 
were there any others at this spot. 

The remaining fifteen, including the big bison, 
were out of rifle-shot from this point. And just as 
Chet spied the land out, the young bull lifted his 
head, twirled his tail, and started off on an easy trot 
for the rest of his tribe. 

He had not been startled. It was merely that he 
had chanced to discover he was alone and the sense 
of fear, more than any other sense, keeps all of the 
bovine clans in herd. They are not naturally gre- 
garious. 

Chet peeped and peered after the trotting buffalo 
until he reached his clan. The herd was not dis- 
turbed. All went on feeding peacefully. It would 
have been too bad to shoot at that single bull and so 
startle the entire herd. 

But they were feeding a good ways out on the 
open and unbroken plain. Chet scanned it care- 
fully. There really did not seem to be a bit of 
screen on this side behind which they might creep 
up on the buffaloes. 


Royal Game 207 

The gentle wind blew towards him. He knew bet- 
ter than to try to approach the herd with the wind. 
But how meet the emergency? 

Chet Havens was not a practical hunter ; but he 
was theoretically a good one, for he had a good 
memory and was a good shot. The mere ability to 
shoot true is not the only quality necessary to make 
a good sportsman. The boy realised his shortcom- 
ings. 

He had never been placed in such a situation as 
this alone before. Always he and Dig had had an ex- 
perienced hunter with them when they stalked deer. 
Here was a case where the boy had to decide what 
to do on his own initiative. 

His father and Mr. Fordham had praised his re- 
sourcefulness when he had made the successful at- 
tempt to get at the men entombed in the Silent Sue 
mine. This was another chance for him to prove 
that they had not been mistaken in him. 

Chet Havens glanced again at the peacefully feed- 
ing buffaloes, fully a quarter of a mile away; then 
he looked down into the hollow where the two horses 
grazed and Dig awaited him. An idea was born 
in the boy’s mind. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A FRUITLESS CHASE 

Chet slipped down from the summit of the rise, 
motioning to his chum to keep still. For, although 
the buffaloes were grazing so far away, he feared 
that a loud word spoken might startle them. 

‘‘ Have they skedaddled, Chet ? ” Dig finally 
whispered when his chum came near. 

No.’’ 

“I was afraid that they might have done so. 
Any chance for a shot? ” 

‘‘ I believe so. I’ll tell you my plan,” Chet re- 
turned in a low voice. 

Dig was just as eager now as Chet himself to get 
a shot at the game. Chet explained quietly how the 
herd was grazing and what he proposed to do to 
overcome the lack of shelter from the down wind 
side. 

Dig dismounted and they led the horses up the 
rise. They had some small discussion as to whether 
they should abandon the outfit while they stalked the 
buffaloes. 

You know what Poke will do the minute I take 
208 


A Fruitless Chase 


209 

his saddle off. He’ll roll,” said Dig, with disgust. 
“ And the way he kicks and snorts is enough 
to frighten any kind of game into a conniption 
fit.” 

I don’t think, after all, that the saddles and 
blanket-rolls will make the buffaloes suspicious,” 
whispered Chet. ‘‘ Now lengthen your rein and tie 
your lariat to it. We’ll give the horses all the range 
possible.” 

With the horses at the very end of the tethers the 
trail boys let them drift over the rise and out upon 
the plain. It was noon and they were hungry, so 
they began to graze immediately. 

Whenever the buffaloes caught sight of the two 
horses, they were quietly feeding on the short grass, 
and moving on like themselves — up wind. A 
plains-bred or mountain-bred horse will always 
point into the wind when grazing, just as instinc- 
tively as any game animal. 

What the buffaloes did not see was the long line 
dragging behind each horse. At the end of the 
lines were the boys, creeping on hands and knees, 
or lying flat for a time on the prairie, to breathe. 

The horses made a perfect screen for the young 
hunters. Chet’s plan included the stalking of the 


210 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

buffaloes to within easy striking distance. Then 
they were to spring into the saddles, cast free the 
ropes, and shoot from that vantage seat — follow- 
ing the herd on horseback if necessary, for a second 
shot. 

It seemed as though the plan would go through 
without a hitch. The horses were kept moving by 
the boys at the end of the ropes; but they did noth- 
ing to startle Hero and Poke. 

Holding the rope in one hand, each boy dragged 
behind him with the other his heavy rifle. If the 
buffaloes glanced toward the horses they would see 
no farther than the saddle mounts themselves. 
That is the way with creatures of the wild. With 
all their apprehension of an approaching enemy, they 
are satisfied of their own safety if some other crea- 
ture intervenes between them and the enemy. The 
quietly grazing horses made the buffaloes perfectly 
tranquil. The young hunters were making a suc- 
cessful approach. 

The big leader of the herd was on the far side; 
but Chet Havens had his mind made up to try for 
that very individual. It would be a feather in his 
cap indeed if he brought down the big bull. 

There were two calves with the buffaloes; but 


A Fruitless Chase 


2II 


they were of grazing age. Chet was quite sure that 
these calves would not keep the herd back much if 
once it should bolt. 

The horses and their owners drew nearer and 
nearer. Chet had planned to come upon the buf- 
faloes a little to one side instead of from the imme- 
diate rear. This was so the game would not have 
to swing their heads around to see the horses. 

The more familiar they became with the sight of 
the grazing horses the less likely the herd was to 
stampede. 

At the right hand — the southeast — was a con- 
siderable thicket. Chet had noticed this in the be- 
ginning; but he did not consider it a good vantage 
point from which to stalk the herd. He was aiming 
almost directly for it. 

He would, however, have given considerable for 
just the protection that thicket afforded as the mo- 
ment for him and Dig to mount drew near. The 
boys signalled each other without speaking. Chet 
assured Dig that he was going to try for the big bull 
while Dig signalled that he would be satisfied with 
a much smaller animal and pointed out one of the 
young males, nearer at hand. 

Chet glanced all around to see if the way was 


212 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

clear, and had just raised his hand in signal to 
mount, when not only the buffaloes, but the horses, 
evinced sudden excitement. 

The whole herd stopped feeding, and the horses 
threw up their heads and snorted. 

‘‘ That old fool, Poke ! ’’ Dig muttered. ‘‘ What 
does he want to make that noise for ? ” 

A long grey body shot from the thicket and 
crossed the plain directly ahead of the buffalo herd. 
It was running like the wind; indeed, it looked to 
be little more than a streak as it skimmed the 
sod. 

Neither boy had ever seen a running wolf before; 
but they did not need to be told what this was. 
With terror at his tail Mr. Wolf will match any- 
thing on four legs in speed. 

And something had certainly frightened this grey 
rascal. He had doubtless been lurking in the 
thicket, watching the buffalo calves and licking his 
chops at the sight. Something had started him for 
the distant Canadian border, and it looked as though 
he would get there presently. 

The wolf ran almost against the noses of the herd. 
The buffaloes huddled for a moment, the big bull 
snorting and bellowing. Then, as one creature, they 


A Fruitless Chase 


213 

wheeled in the track of the wolf, and set off at a 
lumbering canter that took them across the plain at 
surprising speed. 

By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! ’’ exclaimed Dig, in disgust. “ Did you ever 
see such luck ? ” 

He ran to scramble on to Poke’s back; but Chet 
commanded him not to follow the herd at once. 

‘‘ No use adding to their fright. They may only 
run a few miles if they are not molested,” said Chet. 

‘‘ And not a shot after all that trouble ! ” 

Chet was staring at the thicket rather than after 
the stampeded buffaloes. 

‘‘ What under the sun could have started that 
wolf like that?” he muttered. 

‘‘ Come ! ” cried Dig excitedly from the saddle, 
“ you’re not going to let ’em get entirely away from 
us, are you, Chet? ” 

I don’t believe we can get near them again to- 
day, Dig.” 

“Why not?” 

“ After being scared like that they will be more 
watchful. And it’s two o’clock now.” 

“ I don’t care. Why, Chet, those are real buf- 
faloes! ” 


214 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ What’s the matter ? ” laughed his chum. Did 
you think they were imitations at first ? ” 

“ Whew ! ” blew Dig. “ I certainly believed they 
were an hallucination. I didn’t believe there were 
such creatures. At least, not along this trail. 

‘‘ But now I’ve seen ’em — and been almost near 
enough to ’em for a shot — I tell you right now, 
Chet Havens, my blood is up ! Let’s go after those 
buffaloes ! ” 

“Even if they lead us to the Arctic Circle?” 
laughed Chet. 

“ Well, we have our camp equipment with us. 
Why not camp for the night where we happen to 
be? We can get back to the Grub Stake trail to- 
morrow.” 

“And poor little Stone Fence?” suggested Chet 
slyly. 

“ Shucks! Maybe I’ll lasso one of those'buffalo 
calves,” said Dig, grinning. “ It would sell for 
more in town.” 

It was agreed to pursue the buffalo herd for 
a way, at least. The frightened creatures had run 
from their feeding course. They had disappeared 
behind some round mounds to the northwest. This 
was almost as much off their trail as the buffaloes’ 


A Fruitless Chase 


215 

previous course had been. When the boys started 
on a heavy gallop after the game, the Grub Stake 
trail lay far to the south. 

The distance to the mounds was not above five 
miles. The horses took up the trail at an easy pace 
and when they mounted the first small eminence the 
buffaloes were still out of sight. 

“ Whew ! ’’ exclaimed Digby. I reckon they 
have run some distance, Chet.’’ 

“ See that timber ahead ? ” replied his chum. 
“ It’s an open piece, and there is probably a stream 
in it, or just the other side of it. The buffaloes have 
gone no farther than the water, and may be feeding 
in the grove. If the latter, then we must approach 
very carefully. They can see us on the plain be- 
fore we can see them in the timber.” 

“ Now you’re shouting, old boy ! ” cried Dig, ad- 
miringly. Say ! you’re a regular plainsman.” 

It stands to reason,” Chet returned, “ we’ve 
got to use our heads if we expect to ever shoot one 
of those buffaloes.” 

‘‘ Oh, cricky, Chet! If we only could,” said Dig 
longingly. 

Keep your heart up. Maybe we shall,” said 
Chet stoutly. “ Now, let me tell you what I think.” 


2 i 6 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ Spout, brother, spout/’ 

‘‘If that herd gets quiet again and goes to feeding, 
how will the animals head ? ” 

Dig immediately saw what he meant, and nodded. 

“ Into the wind, of course,” he said. 

“And the breeze holds steady, and is likely to 
do so until sundown,” Chet proceeded. 

“Well?” 

“ What we want to do, then, is to make a circle 
to the west and come up behind the feeding herd, 
just as we did before. Let us not cross this plain 
to the timber. We’ll keep along the line of these 
mounds and at their foot, and find some place to 
cross over to the timber and the water under shelter. 
Come on,” and he swung Hero’s head about. 

“ Just one minute, Chet,” said his chum timidly, 
as he urged Poke to follow the other horse. 

“ What’s that? ” 

“ Don’t you think we ought to eat ? ” 

“ Do you want to waste time now making camp, 
and cooking, and all that? Right in the middle of 
stalking that herd ? ” 

“ Whew ! I’ll have to pull in my belt a hole or 
two, then,” grumbled Dig. 

“ Pull it in then. No stop until we have another 


A Fruitless Chase 217 

chance at the buffaloes — or until night comes and 
stops us/’ declared his chum firmly. “ We’re real 
hunters now. We’re not playing at it! ” 

For two hours they rode steadily. The two boys 
scarcely exchanged a word and the horses began to 
show weariness. Then they came up a dead gully 
into the edge of the very piece of timber for which 
they had been aiming. There was no water in sight, 
and both horses and riders were beginning to suffer 
for it. The timber seemed more extensive than 
had appeared from the round back of the mound 
across the plain. Nor, as far as the boys could see, 
were there any signs of the herd of buffaloes. It 
really seemed as though their chase had been fruit- 
less — and the sun was fast going down. 

“ Whew ! ” said Dig, whimsically. ‘‘ We’re a 
long way from home, Chet. What shall we do 
next ? ” 


CHAPTER XX 


A MIDNIGHT ALARM 

As Chet surmised, the timber was open, with a good 
sod and little rubbish or shrubbery. None of the 
bushes was big enough to hide the buffaloes even at 
a distance. 

Not an object moved under the trees as the boys 
pressed on their tired mounts. If the herd of buf- 
faloes had come this way it had not stopped to 
graze in the shelter of the timber. 

And that fact puzzled Chet Havens and caused 
much disappointment to his chum, Dig Fordham. 

“It gets me!'’ grumbled the latter. “You 
figured the thing out all right, Chet. We sneaked 
around and came up behind them all according to 
programme. But plague it all ; somebody’s removed 
the buffaloes. They ought to have stopped here.” 

“ Maybe they kept on to water,” said Chet 
ruminatively. 

“ Whew 1 That wouldn’t be a bad idea for us ! 
Where do you suppose water is? The last drop 
dribbled out of my canteen two hours ago.” 

“ Water’s right under our feet, I suppose. See 
218 


A Midnight Alarm 219 

how thrifty these trees are. But we can’t stop to 
dig for it,” said Chet. ‘‘ We’d better let the horses 
find it.” 

‘‘ And give up hunting the buffaloes ? ” 

“ For to-night. We don’t know how far away 
our camping place is — and night is coming fast. 
The horses have travelled hard.” 

“ Right ! ’’agreed Dig. ‘‘ But I hate to give over 
the hunt.” 

We’ll see what the morning brings forth,” Chet 
said cheerfully. Let’s give the nags a free rein. 
Get on. Hero ! ” 

The bay and the black horse were both thirsty. 
The boys could see no stream ; but their mounts un- 
erringly knew the direction of the nearest water. 
Both horses were range born and had run wild as 
colts. The instinct of their ancestors, the pure- 
blooded mustangs, was strong in them. 

They struck almost directly northward through 
the timber and came out into the darkening plain 
on the other side. Night was coming fast and the 
boys naturally grew anxious. 

They were not exactly lost. Chet had his com- 
pass, and, moreover, they could tell the general 
direction easily enough by the setting sun. But the 


220 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Grub Stake trail was a long way behind them and 
all this country to the west, north, and east was 
entirely strange to the trail boys. 

‘‘ Those buffaloes have plenty of country to hide 
in,” complained Dig, as the horses plodded on. 
‘‘No wonder we didn’t find them. Whew ! this is 
a big state, Chet.” 

“ We can pick up their trail in the morning if 
we want to,” returned his chum, smiling. 

“ How ? ” demanded Dig, interested. 

“ Why, all we need do,” Chet explained, “ is to 
go back to those mounds, find the trail' of the buf- 
faloes, and follow it. They left a trace that a blind 
man could scarcely miss to the point where we 
turned west. It’s easy.” 

“Whew!” blew Dig. “Of course! What a 
thickhead I am! We’ll get those buffaloes 
yet.” 

“ I don’t know,” Chet returned thoughtfully. 
“ Ought we to go so far from the Grub Stake trail? 
Father did not tell me to hasten; but I am sure he 
expected us not to delay much on the road. I’ll 
feel a whole lot better, too, when I’ve attended to 
these deeds,” and he patted his breast to make sure 
of the packet he carried. 


A Midnight Alarm 221, 

“ Surely you wouldn’t drop the chase when we’re 
so near those beasts? ” cried Dig. 

‘‘We don’t know how near they are. Maybe 
they’re running yet,” returned Chet grimly. 

Their mounts quickened their pace and the boys 
fell silent. Twilight had fallen, and the immensity 
of the plains and their loneliness impressed the lads. 
Suddenly Chet started ^upright in his saddle and 
pointed ahead. 

“ Look ! ” he cried. 

It was the gleam of water. There was no mis- 
taking it. The horses snorted and broke into a trot. 
It was a fair-sized sheet of water, lying in a little 
saucer scooped in the plain — a “ water-hole ” in the 
West, but what would have been called a “ frog- 
pond ” in the East. 

Rushes and willows grew about it. There were 
several stunted trees, too, offering plenty of fire- 
wood if not much shelter. The stars were already 
appearing in the arch of the sky overhead, and that 
would be their tent-roof. 

The two chums became cheerful, however, as soon 
as they saw water and fuel. An open camp on a 
fair night like this had no terrors for them. 

They unsaddled their mounts, let them drink their 


222 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

fill, and then hobbled them on a flat piece of prairie 
next to the camp. The fire was built and the strips 
of venison toasted. They were ravenously hungry 
and the remainder of the haunch the robber had left 
for them now looked very small. There was no 
more hard-bread. 

‘‘ Whew! ” sighed Digby, I reckon we’ll have to 
start for Grub Stake bright and early in the morn- 
ing, for we haven’t anything to eat I ” 

We still have coffee, and milk for it, and all 
these cooking things,” chuckled Chet. “ Lots bet- 
ter off than many hunters. Lost all your desire to 
shoot a buffalo. Dig?” 

“ Shooting a buffalo is all right, I don’t doubt,” 
returned his chum scornfully, “ but chasing all over 
this country hunting the creatures isn’t much fun. 
Say, Chet!” 

'' Put a name to it.” 

‘‘ What do you suppose ever scared that wolf 
so?” 

‘‘The wolf that stampeded the buffaloes?” 

“ Yes.’^ 

“ You may have three guesses. But that’s why 
we’re going to keep watch and watch to-night,” 
Chet said grimly. 


A Midnight Alarm 223 

‘‘ You don’t think it was another hunting party? ” 
cried Dig. 

‘‘ I believe nothing but human beings would have 
so scared that grey rascal. My! how he ran! I 
didn’t think of it at the time. I was too excited,” 
Chet said reflectively. ‘‘ But take it from me, boy, 
that wolf was running from man.” 

“ I don’t understand it,” declared Dig. “If 
there had been another party besides us stalking that 
herd, why didn’t we see them?” 

“ They wouldn’t have been very good hunters if 
we had seen them,” laughed Chet. 

“ I mean after the buffaloes were stampeded. 
They must have been in that thicket out of which 
the wolf came.” 

“ Sure. And the very fact we didn’t see them 
after the stampede, makes me suspicious,” Chet re- 
turned. “ I tell you. Dig, that party that stopped 
on the trail and robbed us last night puzzles me 
greatly.” 

“ How so?” 

“ They left the trail somewhere this side of our 
last camp; but I couldn’t see where. They were 
careful to hide their tracks.” 

“ I reckon, considering that they had robbed us.” 


224 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ Well, that might be so, too,’’ ruminated Chet. 
He did not want to frighten his chum regarding 
Tony Traddles and the strange man whom Amoshee 
had said were on the trail behind them. Yet the 
thought of the pair of rascals stuck in Chet’s mind 
and dove-tailed into the mystery of the two who 
had stopped to rob their camp. 

Well,” Dig said finally, I suppose we’ll have 
to do as you say — keep watch. But we haven’t 
seen anything of any prowlers and it is likely those 
fellows who troubled us before are a long way from 
here.” 

“ Hope so,” agreed Chet. “ But we’d better be 
sure than sorry.” 

The boys were tired after the activities of the day; 
but Dig insisted upon standing the first watch. 
“ And believe me ! ” he said, ‘‘ I shall march up and 
down all the time. No sleeping on post this trick ! ” 

Thus dividing the vigil, Chet bade him good-night 
and rolled up in his blanket. It was a warm night, 
however, and later, after he was dead asleep, the boy 
kicked the blanket off. 

Dig kept away from him, however. There was 
no sound of roaming animals of any kind at first, 
and the watchman did not consider it necessary to 


A Midnight Alarm 225 

feed the dying fire. The stars rendered a faint light 
and he t:ould see objects in outline quite plainly. 

The horses fed near the camp, and the ripping 
sound of the grass as their strong teeth severed it 
from the roots 'was the only sound Dig apprehended 
for some time. 

It was as quiet here at this water-hole in the great 
plain as it would have been in Dig’s back yard. 
There was not even the rustle of a breeze in the 
brakes. 

Dig tramped back and forth along the edge of the 
pool, occasionally stooping down to peer through the 
dusk at the horses. He could see them better that 
way. He kept away from his sleeping chum and 
their outfit purposely. He did not propose to rouse 
Chet until it was full midnight. 

He grew thirsty and started to kneel down by the 
side of the pool to drink. Then he remembered that 
the horses had quenched their thirst on this side of 
the water-hole, and the water was likely to be roiled 
and muddy. So he started around toward the other 
side. 

The water-hole was twenty yards across and its 
edge was screened by bushes and brakes for most of 
the way. Dig looked for an opening where he could 


226 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

kneel and reach the water, intending to fill his can- 
teen and bring it back with him to the camp. 

Poke stamped and whinnied ; but Dig did not hear 
his mount. He kept on until he was fully half way 
around the water-hole. The plain seemed quite as 
silent and deserted as before. He could not see the 
spot where his chum lay nor even the gleam of the 
firelight now. 

Chet was quite given up to sleep. He lay on his 
back with the neck of his shirt open. 

He did not hear the restlessness of the horses, nor 
any other sound about the camp. Not at first, at 
least. But when a rifle exploded somewhere near, 
Chet Havens awoke with a start. 

‘‘Hi! whafs that?'’ he ejaculated, and sat up 
suddenly, throwing off the final restraining folds of 
the blanket. 

“ Dig 1 where are you ? ” he added - and, getting 
no answer, he scrambled to his feet and picked up 
his own rifle that had been lying partly under him. 

His chum was nowhere to be seen. He shouted 
again : “ Dig ! Dig 1 ” and then strained his ear 

to catch the reply. But there was no immediate 
answer and Chet found himself shaking with ap- 
prehension. What had become of his chum? 


CHAPTER XXI 


A STARTLING DISCOVERY 

Chet's second thought was, naturally, for the 
horses. If anything happened to their mounts out 
here on the plains, they would be in a bad way in- 
deed. They were all of thirty miles from the Grub 
Stake trail, and if that trail were intersected with a 
line running directly south from this camp, such 
intersection would be about midway of the distance 
between Silver Run and Grub Stake. 

In other words, once back upon the trail the boys 
would have a choice of something like a hundred 
mile ride to either town. And if they had to walk 
it! 

With his rifle at ready " Chet stumbled away 
from the edge of the water-hole until he could get 
a free sight of the plain on this side. He made out 
the horses almost immediately. They were feeding 
contentedly and nothing seemed to have happened 
to them. 

Chet raised his voice again and shouted for his 
chum. There was no reply, and the boy became 
227 


228 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

more and more anxious as the moments passed. 
Where could Dig have gone ? 

It was just then that Chet heard a strange sound. 
It must have been going on ever since he was 
aroused; only his senses had been too dulled with 
sleep to notice it. 

A throbbing sound, that was steadily growing 
fainter. The boy suddenly came to a sensible con- 
clusion regarding it, and he dropped to his knees 
and put an ear to the ground. 

Horses’ hoofs! No doubt of it. The thud of 
them over the sodded prairies was rapidly decreas- 
ing. The horses were now some miles away from 
the water-hole. 

What did it mean? Had an attempt been made 
to raid the camp again, and had Dig driven the 
raiders away? Was it he who had fired the shot 
that awakened Chet? The latter turned back again 
with a terrible sinking feeling at his heart. 

Perhaps there had been a fight and his chum was 
shot! 

Chet Havens was much exercised. He ran to 
and fro in the camp, trying to find some trace of his 
chum. There were the saddles — he had used his 


A Startling Discovery 229 

own for a pillow ; and at this time he did not notice 
anything else missing. 

He shouted again and again, but got no reply. 
Then he bethought him of the rifle, and he put the 
heavy weapon to his shoulder and fired three times 
in the air. 

There sounded a squeal from the other side of 
the water-hole. The horses had snorted, too; but 
Chet paid them no further attention. He started 
around the piece of water, yelling for his chum at 
the top of his voice. 

He heard Dig calling after a minute. Then Chet 
saw him standing by the water’s edge and leaning 
on his gun. 

For goodness’ sake ! what’s the matter with 
you?” gasped Chet, reaching the other lad. And 
then he uttered a second startled exclamation. 
Dig’s face was bloody. 

“What have you been doing?” demanded Chet 
again. 

“ That’s this blamed old rifle,” snarled Dig. 
“ See what it did ? ” and he removed the handker- 
chief with which he was swabbing his brow and 
showed a deep cut. “ That’s what it did to me ! ” 


230 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ How? ” gasped Chet. 

“ Kicked!’’ 

“ But for goodness’ sake ! did you try to put the 
butt against your forehead when you fired? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know what I did. I was excited. I 
saw that man on horseback leading the other 
horse — ” 

What man ? ” interrupted his chum. 

Oh, be still ! ” exclaimed Dig, with great disgust. 
“ Do you s’ pose I stopped to ask him his name and 
where he came from? I up with the gun to fire a 
shot to warn you — ” 

‘‘ That must have been what woke me,” said Chet. 

‘‘ And it’s what put me to sleep,” said Dig, grimly. 
‘‘ I don’t know what happened after this old cannon 
tfied to knock my head off.” 

‘‘ Tell me what happened before,” urged Chet 
anxiously. 

Dig explained how he had come to start around 
the pool. He had heard a noise while on this side 
and, stooping down, he had seen a horseman be- 
tween him and the background of the sky. The 
rider was leading a second horse, and was moving 
quietly toward their encampment. 

At first Dig had not known what to do — whether 


A Startling Discovery 231 

to return and awaken Chet softly or to keep watch 
of the man on horseback. And then Dig had seen 
a man afoot running up from the camp. 

“ The scoundrel was carrying something. .We've 
been robbed, Chet. Is my saddle all right ? " 

“ Yes. But he might have taken something — " 

He clapped his hand to his breast as he spoke. 
Dig did not notice his agitation and went on with 
his story. 

“ Then's when I let go with old Betsy here. And 
whew ! can't she kick some ? She knocked me cold, 
and I just woke up." Then he turned to peer into 
Chet's face, demanding : Say, boy ! what's the 

matter with you? " 

Chet was absolutely pallid. He lips parted, but 
were so dry that for a moment he could not speak. 
Finally he blurted out : 

“ They — they've got 'em ! " 

“Got what?" gasped Dig. “Who's got 'em?" 

“ The deeds." 

“Are you crazy, Chet? Nobody's got those 
deeds. They're in your pocket — " 

“ No ! " cried Chet wildly. “ They're gone ! " 

“ Nonsense ! " 

Chet had drawn open his shirt and turned it so 


232 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

that Dig could easily feel the empty pocket inside. 
He could only mutter : 

Whew ! what bad luck ! what had luck ! Don’t 
you think mebbe you’ve lost ’em, Chet? Dropped 
’em out, maybe?” 

I am afraid not,” returned his chum, getting 
control of himself again. “If you saw one of those 
men coming from the direction of our camp — ” • 

“ Well, he had something besides papers in his 
hands,” grunted Dig. “ Come on ! let’s go back and 
see just how bad things are.” 

“ No matter what other damage they did,” Chet 
declared, “ the loss of the deeds father entrusted to 
my care is the only really serious loss. I feel dread- 
fully, Dig. He trusted us, and I let ’em get away 
from me. And after having had one warning, 
too! 

“ Yes ! two warnings. Amoshee — John Peep — 
told me they were on the trail after us.” 

“Who were after us? What are you talking 
about ? ” demanded the puzzled Digby. 

Chet told him as they hastened around the pool 
to the camp and the horses. 

“Well! of all the stingy guys!” exclaimed Dig. 
‘‘ By all the hoptoads that were chased out of Ire- 


A Startling Discovery 233 

land! youVe the meanest fellow, to keep this all to 
yourself. Hadn’t the first idea that we were being 
trailed by two villains. Cricky 1 ” 

'‘You talk as if it were fun,” said Chet in dis- 
gust. “What shall I say to father? He’ll blame 
me — but that doesn’t so much matter. I tell you, 
Dig, I’ve got to get those deeds back. This fellow 
is after the old Crayton claim and he’ll get the deeds 
changed, somehow, and get Mr. Morrisy to sign 
them, and then father will lose what he’s already in- 
vested in the claim. I tell you, I must get them 
back ! ” he repeated, almost in tears. 

“ Huh 1 ” grunted Digby, “ you’ve got it 
wrong.” 

“ Have what wrong? ” asked Chet, surprised. 

“You say you have to get the papers back. 
Wrong. We have to get ’em back. I’m with you, 
Chet, no matter how big the job is.” 

“ Oh, thank you. Dig ! I know you’ll stand by 
me,” Chet declared. ^ “We’ll have to start as soon 
as possible after these thieves. We must pick up 
their trail and chase them.” 

The boys reached the camp at this moment. 
There were a few live coals in the bed of the fire, 
and Dig stirred them with his foot and then threw 


234 "The Trail Boys of the Plains 

on some light fuel. Soon the blaze sprang up and 
the light flickered over the spot. 

Their saddles had not been touched. Chet had 
already made sure of that. His own blanket was 
on the ground where he had flung it off when he 
arose, awakened by the rifle shot ; but Dig’s had dis- 
appeared. 

By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! ” yelled Dig. The dirty rascals have swiped 
my blanket — And the skillet! Holy mackerel, 
Chet! they’ve taken the coffee-pot, too, and all the 
tinware. That would be just like that Tony Trad- 
dles ! The great, hulking, no-account brute ! ” 

“No use calling him names,” said Chet grimly. 
“ They’ve pretty well cleaned us out. But the worst 
is the deeds,” and he sighed. 

“ I wonder they didn’t take the horses,” exclaimed 

Dig- 

“ Your seeing them and firing the gun probably 
saved our mounts for us,” his chum said. 

“ But if I’d stayed in the camp they wouldn’t have 
cleaned us out,” said Dig thoughtfully. ' 

“ Not so sure. They might have crept up on you 
and knocked you on the head.” 

“ Instead of which that old Betsy gun had to 


A Startling Discovery 235 

knock me over. Just as bad. It knocked me out 
for the time being, and those scoundrels got away.” 

“ They must have been close in, watching you and 
me, when you started around the pond,” Chet ex- 
plained. “ We know what Tony is — a bad man. 
The fellow with him is probably worse. They 
wouldn’t think anything of knocking us both out if 
they hadn’t got what they wanted without.” 

‘‘ Well, what’s done is done,” Dig said mourn- 
fully. “ Now what shall we do?” 

“We can’t do much till daylight. It’s no fun 
following a horse trail in the night — and those 
horses started on the gallop. They will be tiring 
their mounts out while ours are resting. We’ll lose 
nothing by waiting till dawn,” Chet said, with confi- 
dence. 


CHAPTER XXII 


AFTER THE THIEVES 

Digby was strongly disgusted with himself. He 
felt that, to a degree, he was to be blamed for both 
raids upon their camp. 

“The first time I fell plumb asleep,'’ he said. 
“ And now I went away from the fire for a foolish 
reason. Just for a drink! But I declare, Chet, I 
don't believe I would have done it if I'd known there 
was any reason to suspect a return of those thieves." 

“ I blame myself^ Dig. I should have told you," 
admitted Chet. 

“ Just the same, maybe I wouldn't have believed 
you. To think of a man's coming right into the 
camp and taking those papers out of your shirt! " 

“ I reckon I sleep mighty hard," said Chet 
thoughtfully. “I know mother has hard work to 
wake me up in the morning, sometimes. A good 
hunter ought to sleep lightly." 

“ There are no medals on either of us," com- 
mented Dig. “ Those follows must be laughing at 
us." 

“We’ll make them laugh on the other side of 
236 


After the Thieves 


237 

their mouths if we catch them ! ’’ declared Chet, with 
anger. 

How?’^ 

“ I’m very sure they are not so well mounted as 
we are. Poke and Hero are two of the best horses 
owned in Silver Run — you know that.” 

Sure!” 

‘‘ And it stands to reason the thieves are not so 
well armed as we are.” 

“ Whew ! you don’t mean to chase them and shoot 
them, Chet ? ” demanded the startled Digby. 

"‘Of couse not ! But I’m glad to know that we’ve 
got rifles that will probably shoot a good deal far- 
ther than any weapons they may carry.” 

“ Huh ! ” said Dig, scarcely understanding. Then 
he inquired : “ Do you suppose, Chet, that these 

were the chaps that startled that wolf yesterday, and 
spoiled our buffalo hunt ? ” 

“ I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” said Chet. 

“ Ho ! then let’s catch and hang ’em,” grinned 
Digby. “ No punishment is too bad for them.” 

But neither boy could extract many smiles from 
the situation. As it chanced, the thieves had over- 
looked their remaining piece of deer meat. Their 
pocket drinking-cups were left them, too. They 


238 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

toasted the meat over the fire and washed it down 
with water, thus making an early and frugal break- 
fast. 

It was growing faintly light in the east by this 
time, foretelling an early summer dawn. Dig 
brought in the horses and watered them, while Chet 
filled the canteens. 

There was not much remaining of their outfit to 
make ready for departure. The thieves had not 
left them a single cooking utensil; but they had 
coffee, condensed milk, pepper and salt. 

‘‘ That blamed Tony Traddles is just mean enough 
to do a thing like this,’’ Dig declared. ‘‘ But we’ll 
get square yet! ” 

The boys had an idea as to which direction the 
two midnight raiders had headed. It was at the 
western end of the pool that Dig had seen the one 
in the saddle waiting for his comrade. 

‘‘If they intend to make any use of those deeds 
father intrusted to me,” Chet said, “ they will hike 
out for Grub Stake.” 

“ Good-bye to the buffaloes, then,” sighed Dig. 
“ We won’t see them again.” 

“ I don’t suppose so,” returned his chum. “ But 
getting those deeds to Mr. John Morrisy is of more 


After the Thieves 


239 

importance than shooting the big bull. Father 
trusted us to do his errand, and weVe got to do it.” 

“ How’ll you make those fellows give up the 
deeds, Chet ? ” queried Dig, in wonder. 

I don’t know; but I’ll find a way when we catch 
up with them, don’t you fret.” 

When the horses were saddled and ready, Chet 
went ahead, leading Hero, and found the place 
where the second man had mounted and the two 
riders had wheeled and galloped away from the 
camp they had robbed. 

Chet Havens was quite a sensible lad for his age, 
and he secretly wondered why the thieves had been 
so afraid of two boys. It scarcely seemed reason- 
able that they should be so fearful. 

“ Unless it was Dig’s rifle shot that scared them 
off,” he thought. Perhaps the men are not pre- 
pared to face rifles. Yet, I am quite sure they were 
stalking the buffaloes as well as we. They could 
not expect to shoot such beasts with pop-guns.” 

It was easy to follow the trail left by the riders 
for some miles. The hoofs of their horses cut the 
sod sharply, and threw up bits of turf as the ani- 
mals scurried over the ground. 

The route the thieves had followed was across a 


240 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

range quite unfamiliar to the chums from Silver 
Run. It led almost due west, and the trail was 
possibly parallel with the trace leading to Grub 
Stake. 

It puzzled Chet at first why the men had not struck 
out immediately for the Grub Stake trail. But after 
riding for about five miles, and finding that the trail 
was very plain, he suddenly discovered the meaning 
of it. 

The thieves had ridden down the sloping bank of a 
wide but easily forded stream, in the shallows of 
which the trace disappeared. 

They’ve taken to the water, but we don’t know 
which way they’ve gone,” cried Dig, in disgust. 

“ It’s a fact that we don’t know for sure,” Chet 
returned thoughtfully. “ But I think it’s a trick.” 

Of course it’s a trick — and one meant to throw 
us off the track. We’ll have a nice time searching 
along these banks to find the place where they came 
out of the water.” 

‘‘ That’s right — if we searched,” answered Chet, 
as Hero drank his fill. 

“ What do you mean? You going to give up? ” 
Not much!” exclaimed the other young trail 
hunter. 


After the Thieves 


241 

“What you going to do, then?” demanded the 
puzzled Dig. 

“ I’m going to fool them. I don’t know where 
they left the stream, and I don’t care. There is one 
thing I am sure of.” 

“ Huh?” 

“ They’re going to Grub Stake. I bet they want 
to get there before we do. That man — whoever 
he is — is planning to make some use of those deeds 
he stole from me. So, take it from me, boy, they 
are not going far out of the straight way to Grub 
Stake.” 

“ Whew ! that’s reasonable, old man.” 

“ Then we’ll cross here and keep right on. We’ll 
bear off gradually toward the regular trail to Grub 
Stake. I bet we pick up the trace of these two 
rascals before long.” 

“ Long head ! Long head ! ” declared Dig admir- 
ingly. “ Come on ! these horses will drink so much 
water they’ll be water-logged and can’t travel. Hike 
out o’ there. Poke, you villain ! ” 

The boys cantered through the shoals and out upon 
the other bank. When they reached the upper edge 
of the river bank Chet rose in his stirrups and swept 
the plain all about for some sign of moving objects. 


242 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

The thieves had not taken his field-glasses, for they 
had been in the pocket of his saddle. 

A little to the northwest, but far, far away, the 
boy saw two black specks. They did not look big- 
ger than buzzards, but Chet Havens thought they 
were the mounted men. He passed the glasses to 
Dig. 

Look a4: them, old man,” he said. We don’t 
want to chase way over there for nothing.” 

‘‘ Whew ! ” quoth Dig. We couldn’t go for 
nothing, Chet. Either they are the men we are 
after, or it’s game that we need. Don’t overlook the 
fact that we’ve got to eat. Chewing dry coffee, nor 
yet drinking condensed milk, doesn’t appeal to me.” 

I don’t know but you’re right,” agreed Chet. 
“ Much as I want to overtake those miserable 
thieves, we must not overlook the fact that we have 
to eat to live.” 

That sounds good,” grinned Dig. ‘‘ Mother 
says I just live to eat. There is a difference.” 

The boys rode on, but the two objects they had 
seen disappeared in a coulie. Later they saw them 
and identified them as two grazing animals. 

'' Of course, not the buffaloes,” said Chet doubt- 
fully. 


After the Thieves 


243 

“ Why ! they went the other way ! ’’ Dig de- 
clared. “Isn’t that so?” 

“We suppose so. Hard to tell what a frightened 
bunch of animals will do, though I supposed they 
would continue to graze northeast.” 

“ Never mind. We’ll see what those things are 
if they’ll let us get near enough.” 

It wasn’t long before the boys identified the mov- 
ing objects (of which they caught sight now and 
then as they cantered over the rolling prairie) as 
a pair of elks. The spreading horns of the male 
were quite easily seen. 

“If we get one of those, boy, it’s going to be no 
cinch,” declared Digby Fordham. “ That’s a big 
buck.” 

“ We’ll try, at least,” said his chum. “If you 
don’t at first succeed, you know — ” 

“ Oh, yes ! I know,” returned Dig. “ Suck eggs ! 
But I’m not fond of ’em in that way. Take it from 
me, I don’t care to ‘ try, try again ’ for those elks. 
We’re soon going to be just as hungry as ever 
Robinson Crusoe was. Fix it so I get a shot at one 
of ’em from a rest, Chet.” 

“Well! don’t rest the butt of your rifle against 
your forehead again,” advised Chet, glancing at 


244 "The Trail Boys of the Plains 

the smear of blood that had oozed through the hand- 
kerchief Dig had bound about his brow. 

“ Watch me ! ” growled Dig. “ I won't shoot 
this old gun again without being mighty sure that 
she isn’t going to kick me.” 

When they came to the next water-hole he dis- 
mounted and bathed the wound on his forehead. It 
was a bad gash, and the forehead was sore and 
bruised all about the wound. 

Talk about being wounded in the war,” said 
Dig grimly, as Chet tied the handkerchief again. 
‘‘ I ought to get a pension. My uncle carried this 
old rifle for three years in the war, and I bet I’m the 
only one that’s ever been wounded with it.” 

And that at the wrong end,” chuckled Chet. 
** But didn’t your uncle ever shoot at the enemy? ” 

“ I don’t believe so. He was too tender-hearted. 
It’s a family trait,” said Dig gravely. 

‘‘ I bet you don’t show any of that tenderness of 
heart if we come within shooting distance of those 
elks,” said Chet, climbing back into the saddle. 

“ Now, aren’t you just right? ” proclaimed Digby. 

They galloped on, seeing the elks from the next 
rise not more than three miles away. How the 
graceful creatures had come out here on the plain 


After the Thieves 245 

was something of a mystery — especially without 
more of their tribe. 

Now Chet took the lead and governed the ap- 
proach to the feeding place of the elks. There were 
no thickets, but there were several mounds behind 
which the young hunters could screen themselves. 

Yet none of these shelters was near enough to 
enable the boys to get within easy rifle shot. They 
tried one mound, dismounting and lying flat, to rest 
the barrels of their guns over the top of the rise. 

But the distance was too great. Dig wanted to 
try it, but Chet forbade him to shoot. 

‘‘ The elks are travelling away from us. If you 
wounded one, it would gallop farther and farther 
away. Then we’d likely lose the game entirely. If 
we could get around ahead of them it would do to 
risk a long shot. But of course they are feeding up 
wind.” 

‘‘What will we do, Chet? Don’t forget that 
starvation stares us in the face.” 

“ Pull in your belt a little more,” grinned Chet. 

“ Whew ! if I pull it in much tighter,” declared 
Dig, “ I’ll cut myself in two. I’ve got a waist like a 
wasp already. My stomach thinks my throat’s cut. 
I tell you, boy, we’ve got to eat ! ” 


246 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Dig was much in earnest. It was pressing close 
to noon and their breakfast — and the previous eve- 
ning’s meal — had not been very satisfactory. Chet 
was just as earnest in his desire to kill game; yet, 
he would not have started this way had he not at first 
thought that the elks were mounted men. 

Being on the ground, however, he set his wits 
to winning out against the cunning of the game. 
He and Dig rode around several mounds and finally 
came to a shallow valley between two of the small 
eminences, and through which they might ride right 
out upon the little prairie on which the elks grazed. 

“ And that’s the best we can do. Dig, I believe,” 
Chet declared. “We couldn’t possibly steal up 
within sure rifle shot, afoot. Got to trust to our 
horses being quicker on their feet than the elks for 
the first few jumps. And don’t let your rifle smash 
your face again ! ” 

“ Let’s get down and cinch up,” said Dig nerv- 
ously. “If our saddles should slip — ” 

“ Hold on ! hold on, boy ! ” advised Chet, under 
his breath. “ Don’t you have an attack of elk fever 
at the critical moment.” 

“ Stop talking, and come on,” urged Dig, pulling 


After the Thieves 


247 

up on Poke’s straps until the black mustang squealed. 
“ Do hush, you black abomination ! Don’t you give 
us away.” 

Into the saddles again, and the boys looked at 
each other. It was to be a race of a quarter of a 
mile or more before they came within rifle range of 
the feeding elks. Chet nodded and Dig returned it. 
Then they gave their mounts free rein, and Hero 
and Poke dashed forward. 

They went through the cut between the hills with 
a rush, their quick feet padding lightly on the sod. 
Out upon the prairie they debouched, gradually 
separating so as to have a better chance at the elks. 

The latter kept their heads down, feeding. The 
patter of the horses’ hoofs upon the sod was almost 
soundless. The boys were coming up behind the 
elks and in another minute — 

Dig began to raise his rifle slowly ; Poke was run- 
ning with free bridle, for his master could guide him 
by the pressure of his knees as well as by pulling 
on the bit. 

But Dig was too early. They were not to come 
so easily upon the elks. Of a sudden the grazing 
animals jerked up their heads and glanced around. 


248 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

It did not seem as though they could have seen the 
hunters; but they caught the vibration of the pound- 
ing hoofs. 

They were off like darts, swerving from the direc- 
tion the boys came, stretching out to reach the swell 
of the nearest hillock. 

“ Come on ! ’’ yelled Chet, and pounded Hero in 
the flank with his heels. 

The horses seemed to enter into the spirit of the 
chase. They thundered up the rise at the heels of 
the elks. Dig wanted to shoot at once; but Chet 
begged him not to. 

“ You’ll be shooting right into the air as we go up 
hill ! ” he shouted. ‘‘ You’ll shoot clean over their 
heads. Dig.” 

“ I don’t want to lose my chance as I did with 
those buffaloes,” returned Dig, much worried. 

“Wait till we’re over the rise. Then we can 
shoot down on them — ” 

But Chet was mistaken. The elks flew over the 
rise. It would have been a long shot had they tried 
it then. On rushed the bay and the black, both as 
eager in the chase as their young masters. 

Chet fairly rose in his stirrups to see over the 
round top of the mound. He saw the tossing horns 


After the Thieves 249 

of the bigger elk; and then — he saw something 
else ! 

‘‘ Dig ! Dig ! they’re here I ” he gasped, and al- 
most fell out of his saddle, he was so amazed. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE FIRST BUFFALO 

Chet was taller than his chum and he had risen in 
his stirrups, while Dig lay out on the black’s neck 
and cheered him on. So the first named lad saw 
over the rise and out upon the plain. 

The two elks were hammering down the slope, 
their slender legs doubling under their round bodies, 
and stretching out again with almost bewildering 
swiftness — like the driving-rods of fast-turning 
engines. But they were a good shot, if not an easy 
one, for the boys were not directly behind them. 
A ball, directed properly, would have raked either 
beast from forward of the hip into, and through, the 
heart. This was not to be, however. Chet and 
Dig were destined never to knock over those elks. 

What arrested Chet’s hand was the sight of a herd 
of animals grazing on the plain, and almost as close 
to him as the elks. The sight of them brought the 
cry to his lips : 

‘‘ Dig ! Dig ! they’re here! ” 

‘‘Who are here? Those rascals?” Dig yelled, 
250 


The First Buffalo 


251 

thinking first of the thieves who had robbed them the 
night before. 

But the next moment he saw the grazing herd — 
the sixteen buffaloes! 

“ After them ! Quick ! ” shrieked Dig, and 
spurred his black. 

He almost seemed to lift Poke off his feet when 
he struck the tiny spurs into him. Poke shot ahead 
of the bay and Dig rose in his stirrups. 

He was not as good a shot as Chet; but he could 
not miss that brown body which was squarely in 
front of him. It was not the big bull Dig aimed at; 
that animal, in fact, he did not see. But the crea- 
ture in line with his rifle barrel was big enough. 

It was a well grown bull, and when it raised its 
head and swung the huge bulk of it to see the charg- 
ing boys, it looked formidable. The chums were 
tearing down upon the buffaloes, losing sight of the 
elks entirely. The nobler game made them ignore 
the other. 

Naturally, the elks charging down into the herd 
startled the buffaloes before the boys themselves 
were seen. Most of the buffaloes sprang away on 
a gallop. 

But the young bull for which Dig aimed was too 


252 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

late. The boy fitted the heavy rifle-stock snugly 
into his shoulder — no chance for it to kick him this 
time — and fired almost over Poke’s ears at the 
huge brown body. 

He made a bull’s-eye. The thud of the bullet 
could be heard plainly by both furiously riding boys. 
But he did not hit a vital spot, having aimed too far 
back of the foreleg. 

Chet had checked Hero, riding to give to his 
chum all the room he needed. The other buffaloes 
scuttled across the plain so rapidly that the bay — 
heavily loaded as he was — could scarcely have 
caught them and so given his master a shot. The 
stricken bull did not follow his mates, but wheeled on 
Poke and, head down, charged him and his rider. 

‘‘ Look out. Dig ! ” shouted Chet in superfluous 
warning. 

The buffalo moved with surprising swiftness; but 
even at that Dig could have easily got in a second 
shot had the mechanism of his rifle not fouled for a 
second. 

That second was long enough to put the boy in 
danger. For the charge of the wounded buffalo 
meant peril. 

Chet yelled and urged Hero after the angry 


The First Buffalo 


253 

animal. The bull buffalo was not blind with rage, 
whatever else he was. He turned as nimbly as a 
cat, in spite of his bulk, and was fairly upon the 
black horse as the latter wheeled to escape. 

Shoot him, Chet!’’ begged Dig, dropping his 
rifle to save himself from a fall as Poke whirled. 
The mustang leaped away, but the maddened bull 
was right at his heels. Of course, given a few mo- 
ments, Poke could have distanced the buffalo ; but at 
the time, the situation was serious. 

Chet, on Hero, came thundering along upon the 
buffalo’s off side. The boy had not raised his rifle 
to his shoulder, but he was alert. 

“ Shoot ! ” again begged Dig, in alarm. 

Chet forced the snorting bay up beside the charg- 
ing buffalo. He leaned over suddenly, clapping the 
rifle-butt to his shoulder, and looked over the sights 
directly at a patch behind the fore-shoulder. 

When the rifle spoke the huge head of the buffalo 
was almost under Poke’s belly. The buffalo ran 
with his nose barely clearing the ground. Now his 
head dropped, struck into the sod, and so swiftly 
was he going that the momentum caused the bull to 
turn a complete somersault. 

The ball had gone through the buffalo’s heart. 


254 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

and he was instantly dead. The boys pulled in their 
horses to blow, and to look at their wonderful 
quarry. 

‘‘ Whew ! ’’ wheezed Dig, rather shakily, “ that 
was great, old man. I believe he’d have had me and 
Poke.” 

“ Oh, Dig ! isn’t it a great kill ? ” gasped Chet, 
just as excited as he could be. To think of us kill- 
ing a big buffalo like this ! ” 

“ Lots I had to do with it,” grumbled his chum. 
“ It was your shot brought him down.” 

But if it hadn’t been for your wounding him, I 
don’t think he’d be lying here at all. They’re pretty 
tough creatures to kill, boy.” 

“ Cricky ! I should say they were. And as 
wicked as lions or bears. Whew ! I feel as though 
I’d had a narrow escape, Chet.” 

“ I reckon you have! ” 

‘‘And that confounded old rifle! It fouled just 
as I tried to work the lever.” 

“ Well ! let’s be glad it was no worse. And, Dig ! 
we’ve got the buffalo — the first buffalo we ever 
shot.” 

“You’re a wonder, Chet,” declared his generous 
chum. “ You put that ball right where it would do 


The First Buffalo 


255 

the most good. I lost my head completely — I own 
up to that. Talk about elk fever! that creature 
looked as big as a house to me,” and Dig 
laughed. 

‘‘ It is a mystery to me how such a big creature 
could be killed by only two bullets,” said Chet. 
They had dismounted now and stood beside the inert 
body of the buffalo bull. I read, though, that 
some Indians when riding to kill a buffalo would 
force their ponies close up to the running beast and 
drive an arrow clear through his body. What do 
you know about that ? ” 

“ Don’t know anything about it,” returned Dig, 
with a whimsical look, ‘‘ but I think that the fellow 
that told that ought to be woke up — he was lying 
on his back ! ” 

‘‘ I don’t know about its being a dream. Before 
they got to fooling with the cast-off firearms of the 
white man, the Indian must have done a lot of kill- 
ing with arrows and spears.” 

‘‘ That’s all right. You can have such hardware 
if you want,” returned Dig. Give me a rifle every 
time.” 

“Even if it fouls in the breach?” chuckled 
Chet. 


256 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Every creature but themselves and their mounts 
had disappeared from the plain by this time. They 
straightened the dead beast out and then rolled it on 
its back. 

Much as he deplored any delay at this time, Chet 
could not think of going on and leaving the hide of 
the buffalo. Butchering the huge creature would be 
hard work for two boys with their little experience 
in such work; but they needed a part of the animal 
for food. 

Dig vowed he could eat it all — horns and hide — 
he was so hungry ! 

They picketed the horses, removed their own 
coats, and whetted their knives. It was difficult 
work to get the hide off the buffalo, for the carcass 
weighed all of six hundred pounds — all the weight 
the two boys could possibly roll on the clean sward. 
They were more than an hour in getting the hide 
clear; Dig was satisfied to give up the idea of saving 
the head for mounting, although Chet managed it so 
that the horns came with the hide. 

“ Say ! that’ll be something to show ’em back 
home ! ” panted Dig, holding up the fore part of the 
hide. Cricky, Chet ! we ought to have been photo- 
graphed beside of this beast. Whew ! he looks big- 


The First Buffalo 


257 

ger now he's skinned than he did before. Wish 
somebody that needed it had all this meat.” 

‘‘ I wish he did,” agreed Chet. 

But never mind,” said Dig, the next minute. 
** We need some of it right now. Wish we had 
something to boil the tongue in.” 

But they opened the carcass to drain it (as well as 
it could be drained on the ground) and cut out sev- 
eral ribs for their own supper. 

‘‘Two meals together!” Dig declared. “I’ve 
got to catch up on my rations, Chet.” 

There was a thicket near, and the boys gathered 
fuel and made a hot fire. They broiled the ribs on 
green withes, and, still having seasoning, they made 
a hearty repast, while the horses cropped the buffalo 
grass eagerly. 

It was late afternoon when this was over and 
Chet said they must move on. They cut out the tid- 
bits and several good steaks; but were forced to 
leave the rest of the meat for the coyotes, who were 
already hovering on the tops of the hillocks. 

“ Good-bye, first buffalo ! ” exclaimed Dig, look- 
ing back at the red carcass. “ It’s the greatest kill 
we ever had, Chet, old boy ! Won’t your folks and 
mine be surprised when they see this robe ? ” 


258 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ I hope we can cure the robe in time, so that it 
will be a nice one,’’ Chet said, with some anxiety. 
“ We must spread it out carefully every place we 
camp.” 

‘‘And, say! where will we camp next?” cried 
Dig. “ We’re a long way off the Grub Stake 
trail.” 

“ It’s still south of us, somewhere,” said his chum. 
“ We’ll find it. But I hope we’ll pick up the trail of 
those two robbers first.” 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! ” exclaimed Dig. “ I had forgotten all about 
them.” 

“I hadn’t,” returned Chet grimly. “We. must 
find them, boy.” 

“ Do you suppose they came this way after the 
buffaloes?” 

“ I don’t believe they knew any more about the 
course the buffaloes took than we did. They are 
aiming for Grub Stake, just the same.” 

“ So are the buffaloes,” said Dig. “ At least, 
they were when they went out of sight.” 

“ In that general direction — yes.” 

“Whew! Suppose we overtake them again, 
Chet?” 


The First Buffalo 


259 

“Then maybe we’ll get a second robe. Other- 
wise we’ll have to cast lots for the one you’re sitting 
on right now. Dig,” and young Havens laughed. 

Nevertheless, excited as the boys were over the 
buffalo herd, Chet insisted in slanting at a sharper 
angle south than the big game had taken. It was 
the trail of the two men who had robbed them that 
Chet was the more anxious to pick up. 

He was a brave boy — and a determined. His 
father had entrusted him with the papers relating 
to John Morrisy’s share in the Crayton claim. Mr. 
Havens’ lawyer in Silver Run had prepared the 
documents. For all Chet knew, the names might 
be changed in the body of the documents and then, 
if Mr. Morrisy signed them, they would give some- 
body besides Mr. Havens title to the old mine. 

The loss of the documents worried Chet greatly. 
He felt, somehow, that he had been to blame in al- 
lowing the thieves to get the deeds. He should 
have been more watchful, especially after the warn- 
ing he had had of threatening danger. 

The horses were still fresh, although they had 
travelled some distance that day. They kept on at 
a fast pace for several hours — until, indeed, the 
sun was down. There was then a strip of timber 


260 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

ahead, which seemed to extend clear across the 
plain, as far as the eye could see, from north to 
south. 

“ And no sign of those rascals yet,” grumbled 
Dig. ‘‘ Could we have crossed their trail without 
knowing it ? ” 

“ Sure ! ” admitted Chet promptly. ‘‘ Tve been 
looking sharply for signs, and so have you. But 
everything or anything is possible on the trail. We 
aren’t the smartest fellows who ever lived, Dig. If 
we were only a little bit smarter we wouldn’t have 
been robbed at all.” 

“ Don’t rub it in,” grumbled Digby. “ I hold 
myself responsible for all this trouble.” 

I don’t hold you responsible. Just bad luck and 
bad figuring. I am fully as much to blame as you 
are. I had reason to believe we were being fol- 
lowed, and you hadn’t. Humph! No use crying 
over spilled milk.” 

“ That’s all right,” said Dig. “ But where are we 
going to camp to-night? In the open, or shall we 
push on to that timber?” 

“ We’ll be more sheltered there,” Chet said, 
gazing ahead at the distant line of trees. ‘‘ There is 
water between here and there. We can let the 


The First Buffalo 261 

horses drink, refill our canteens, and push on for the 
woods.” 

“ Just as you say. Get up. Poke! ” 

The timber was much farther away than it 
seemed, however. The boys did find water; rather, 
they let the horses find it for them. But it was an 
open water-hole and the sun had evaporated the 
water until it was very low. 

“ Maybe there will be a running stream in the 
woods. This is as flat as dishwater,” declared Dig, 
tasting it. ‘‘ ’Tisn’t fit to drink straight. Wish we 
could boil some of our coffee.” 

‘‘ Let’s keep on to the timber and make a regular 
camp,” Chet advised. Then Til rig something to 
hold a canteen over the fire and make coffee.” 

‘‘ You can’t do it.” 

‘‘ Well, I can try,” returned Chet. “ Anyway, 
we’ll take shelter in the woods. Our camp won’t be 
spotted so far.” 

‘‘Waugh!” ejaculated Dig, with disgust. “No 
use in locking the stable after the horse has been 
swiped. Those fellows don’t want anything more 
of us, that’s sure. They’ll let us alone after this, I 
reckon.” 

But he did not oppose his chum’s suggestion. 


262 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

They got into the saddle again and pushed for the 
timber line. The sun had sunk altogether behind the 
mountains and darkness on the plain gathered 
quickly. The timber was tall and thick and they 
were in the shadow of it for some time before they 
reached the first line of trees. 

It was Chet who observed the light first. It 
twinkled at a stationary point some distance back in 
the forest. 

He drew in Hero quickly and put out a hand to 
warn Dig back. There’s a campfire,” he said 
quietly. 

‘‘ Whew ! Who’s that, do you suppose ? ” 

That’s what we want to find out,” Chet said, 
with decision. “ And we want to find it out before 
we get into any trouble. Look out. Dig I that black 
scamp is going to whinny.” 

Dig swiftly stifled that desire on Poke’s part by 
pinching his nostrils between thumb and finger. 

There are other horses here, you may be sure. 
We’d better take our horses back farther and tether 
them before we do anything else.” 

‘‘ No,” said Chet, thoughtfully. ‘‘ We’ll put on 
their hobbles. We might need our ropes,” he added, 
which made Dig look at him curiously. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


TIT FOR TAT 

Ten minutes later the two chums entered the forest 
and crept toward the light. That it was a campfire 
neither doubted; there could be no question about 
that. 

‘‘ What you going to do with these lariats ? ” Dig 
whispered, for Chet had insisted that each carry the 
rope which hung at his cantle. 

“ Never mind ! hush ! ” urged Chet, with more 
vigour than politeness. 

There might be very good reason for a silent ap- 
proach to the camp. Whether it was the camp of 
the thieves who had troubled them the previous 
night or not, the campers might be men whom the 
boys would not care to meet. 

‘‘ We’ll spy on them first,” Chet had declared, and 
now they proceeded to carry out his intention. 

The timber was big and open. It was really 
fair grazing ground, for there were few shrubs. 
Before they had penetrated far into the wood the 
boys descried two ponies feeding. The animals 
263 


264 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

gave them no attention, so, plainly, they were used 
to white men. Indian ponies would have snorted 
and stamped at the approach of any white visitors. 

The campfire blazed brightly; but there was no 
smell of cooking. It was evident that the campers 
had finished supper. Chet led the way around to 
the windward and they got the smell of tobacco 
smoke quite strongly. 

They’re sitting there smoking ; but they are not 
talking much,” whispered Chet. “ We know there 
are at least two, for both those horses are saddle 
horses. I bet they are the fellows we are after.” 

“ Whew ! What’ll we do now we’ve found them, 
Chet ? ” whispered his chum, in return. 

Get nearer and make sure. Then we’ll see,” 
said Chet, with confidence. 

‘‘ I hope we’ll see,” muttered Dig, ‘‘ but it’s 
blamed dark.” 

They both remembered their training under old 
Rafe, however. The hunter had taught them how 
to move quietly in the night, and through thickets 
far more dense than this. Soon the two chums, 
side by side, were in view of the tiny clearing where 
the fire burned. 


Tit for Tat 265 

Their suspicions were correct on the first count, 
at least. There were two men at the fire. 

One was lying on his back with a blanket wrapped 
around him, while his big, black hat was tipped over 
his face. 'Dig pinched Chet sharply, and when his 
chum turned to scowl at him, the excited lad 
mouthed the words : 

‘‘My blanket!” 

Chet nodded. He recognised the stolen cover- 
ing. There could be no doubt but these two men 
were the ones who had robbed them. Besides there 
were the coffee-pot and some of their cooking uten- 
sils on a log near the fire. 

Dig’s eyes snapped and he doubled his fist and 
shook it at the prostrate man, who was evidently 
asleep. 

It was just then that Chet touched his chum’s arm 
and pointed to the second figure by the campfire. 
This man was sitting, with his back against a log 
and his knees drawn up. He was the one who 
smoked, and it was both a vile pipe and strong 
tobacco he was sucking on. 

Dig nodded vigorously when he made out the 
features of this man in the shadow. “ It’s Tony,” 


266 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

he breathed in Chet’s ear. “ But who’s he ? ” and 
he pointed to the sleeping man. 

Chet shook his head over that question. Some- 
how that broad-brimmed, black hat looked familiar; 
but Chet could not place it just then. Besides, he 
was too anxious regarding what they should do with 
these two rascals. 

Chet had refused to let Dig bring his rifle; but 
both boys carried their ropes. He saw that Tony 
Traddles cuddled a rifle in the hollow of his arm; 
it had slipped down until it lay in such a position 
that the man would have hard work to grab it up 
quickly. As for the sleeping rascal, Chet could not 
see that he was armed at all. 

The boys both had their revolvers, but at the start 
Chet had forbidden Dig to flourish his pistol. 

“ Somebody might get hurt. They’ve stolen 
from us, but they did not try to injure us. And 
how we should feel if we managed to seriously hurt 
one of them! ” 

Of course, in a sober moment. Dig would have 
agreed to this ; but at the time he grumbled some. 

“ They didn’t hurt us ? Huh ! look at my fore- 
head. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have a 
headache.” 


Tit for Tat 267 

He was in full accord with his chum, however, 
agreeing that Chet should take the lead. Tony 
Traddles, the bewhiskered, ragged tramp, was really 
nodding as he pretended to keep watch before the 
brightly burning fire. He pulled at his pipe slowly ; 
his effort to draw the smoke into his mouth was al- 
most mechanical. 

Dig was the better of the two chums with the 
rope, as well as with horses. Chet signalled him to 
watch the sleeping man so that when he roused and 
sat up Dig could noose him before he had a chance 
to seize a weapon. For his own part, Chet stepped 
away a few paces and made ready his lariat. 

There were no trees or shrubs in the way. 
Tony’s eyes were too full of sleep to see him. Be- 
sides, both boys were behind the log and Tony would 
have had to turn his head to catch a glimpse of 
them. 

Dig was getting nervous when he saw his chum 
taking so much time for his preparations. Suppose 
Tony aroused suddenly — or the other man? 

But Chet was not going to miss his man by any 
over-eagerness. He made sure the coil of the rope 
ran free and that the noose was open. Then he 
threw the lariat and it dropped just where he wanted 


268 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

it to — over the head and shoulders of the gorilla- 
like rascal. 

‘‘Help!^’ grunted Tony, who had been quite 
asleep, feeling the tightening of the noose about his 
arms. 

His partner sprang almost instantly into a sitting 
posture, and his hand went to a six-shooter that 
he had bolstered at his hip. But Dig was ready. 
He uttered a yell of derision and dropped his noose 
over the villain, whipping it so tight at the first pull 
that the man uttered a cry^of pain. 

‘‘ Got him!’’ cried Dig. 

Chet had been just as quick as his chum. When 
he pulled the line taut he sprang over the log and 
landed right on the back of Tony Traddles, knock- 
ing the big fellow forward on his face. 

The boy fastened the rope with a good knot and 
left Tony thrashing about and sputtering, while he 
ran to see that Dig and his prisoner were all right. 
The man with the black sombrero could not get at 
his gun, and struggle as he did he could not loosen 
the rope. Soon the boys had wound the slack of the 
lariat around him, from elbows to heels, and laid 
him out like an “ Indian papoose,” as Dig said, 
chuckling. 


Tit for Tat 


269 

Then the chums went to Tony and, in spite of his 
kicking, and ignoring his threats, they triced him up 
as carefully and securely as they had his comrade 
in crime. 

I know who that other man is now,” said Chet. 

Don’t you recognise him. Dig?” 

‘‘No. My acquaintance doesn’t run among such 
fellows as he,” answered Dig. “ The mean thief ! 
That’s my blanket he was sleeping in. I’ll take it 
and hang it over a bush to air.” 

“ Don’t be ridiculous,” said Chet, smiling. 
“ He’s the fellow who was hanging around our 
house. Don’t you remember that when I shot that 
hawk, he was there? And he is the same fellow 
who, the day of the cave-in at the mine, was up in 
the mountain with Amoshee.” 

“ With John Peep?” 

“Yes. I know he is interested in the Crayton 
claim, and he’s stolen those deeds from me. I’m 
going to get them back,” and Chet approached the 
man with determination. 

“ You keep away from me, you young snipe ! ” 
growled the man. “ When I get out o’ this I’ll 
jmake you sweat.” 

You’re going to perspire yourself, mister, J 


270 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

should think/’ said Dig, giggling. ‘‘We have you 
right. You stole from us — ” 

“Nothing of the kind!” blustered the fellow. 
“We never saw you before.” 

“ I think we recognise that blanket and those pots 
and pans,” said Chet gravely. “You needn’t tell 
stories about it. You robbed us and now we’re 
going to take our things back.” 

“ We ought to drive them along to Grub Stake, 
too,” suggested Dig, “and turn them over to the 
police.” 

“ You young smart Alecks will get your com-up- 
ance,” muttered the man. “ You let me loose or it 
will be the worse for you.” 

“How about me?” bawled Tony. “I’ll break 
’em in two if I git my hands on ’em. That boy of 
old Havens’ ’specially.” 

Chet meanwhile had approached the black-hatted 
man, and now he began to search his pockets. The 
man used frightful threats to check him; but Chet 
was not to be stopped. 

“ You might as well save your breath to cool your 
porridge,” quoth Dig, grinning. “ My chum is go- 
ing to get back those deedS; and don’t you forget 
it!” 


Tit for Tat 


271 

“ What deeds? ’’ snarled the man. ‘‘ You’re try- 
ing to rob me. Better let my wallet alone.” 

But there was nothing in the nature of deeds 
about the fellow> although Chet examined his clothes 
carefully. The boy’s hopes sank very low as he 
proceeded with the search. 

The man snarled at him and threatened, but Chet 
thought that he seemed disturbed himself over the 
result of the investigation. Chet went toward Tony 
and that scoundrel cried : 

You won’t get nothin’ off’n me, young Havens. 
Sue a beggar and get his rags — that’s all. Don’t 
know nothin’ about no deeds. Go away ! ” 

But Chet insisted on searching him, and Dig 
helped. Then, when they had come to a resultless 
finish, the two boys stood up and looked at each 
other. 

They had found and made prisoners the men 
who they knew had robbed them ; but the main ob- 
ject to be attained — the recovery of the precious 
papers Chet was carrying to Grub Stake — seemed 
just as far off as ever. Neither of the captives was 
in possession of the deeds. 


CHAPTER XXV 
chet’s determination 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! ” Dig vowed. “ Have we chased these snooz- 
ers all this way for nothing? 

‘‘Let’s search ’em again,” insisted Chet grimly. 
“ They took those deeds out of my pocket and they 
have them somewhere.” 

“ Don’t you boys maul me all over no more,” said 
Tony complainingly. “ I tell ye, ye won’t find 
nothin’ on me — and ye tickle. I never could stand 
being tickled. Lemme up,” and the rough fellow 
grinned up into their faces in a most knowing way. 

“ No,” said Chet slowly. “ We’ll not let you up 
yet. I think you’d look pretty going back to Silver 
Run with a rope around you.” 

“ Back to the Run ? ” questioned Dig, puzzled. 

“No use our going on to Grub Stake if we can’t 
find the deeds,” said Chet sternly. “ And what do 
you suppose the boys at father’s mine would do to 
this scamp if they got hold of him again?” 

272 


Chet’s Determination 


273 

“Aw — say!” growled Tony. “You're too 
fresh. I don’t want to go back to the mine.” 

“ Then where are those papers? ” Chet demanded 
earnestly. 

“ Don't ask me about ’em. I never had 'em,” 
declared the man. ^ 

“ But you've seen them ? Your partner had them ? 
And he has them yet, I believe,” cried Chet, turning 
sharply on the other villain. 

“ Find out ! ” snarled that individual. 

“ I’ll find out before I let you free,” promised the 
lad. 

“Say!” exclaimed Tony. “Don’t hold me for 
Steve’s sins. I took your coffee-pot and truck and 
you got ’em back. Now let up on a feller.” 

“ Why should I ? ” Chet demanded seriously. 
“ I’ve got to find the deeds.” 

“ I ain’t got ’em — honest! ” declared Tony. 

“ I wouldn’t take your word for it,” growled Dig, 
in the background. 

“ Well ! you might as well believe me,” almost 
whined the big fellow. “ I don’t want you boys to 
keep me tied up this a-way.” 

“ Shut up, you sniveler ! ” commanded the man 
called Steve,, from the other side of the fire. 


274 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ Say ! you can shut up yourself/’ cried Tony. 

I knowed you’d get us into trouble. These are 
two powerful smart boys and we’d oughtn’t to have 
treated ’em so mean. Give ’em the papers back, 
Steve.” 

Shut your mOuth ! ” yelled the other man. '' I 
haven’t the papers.” 

‘‘ Well, you had ’em,” grumbled Tony. 

‘‘ We’ll search him again — to the skin,” said Chet 
bitterly. ‘‘ Come on. Dig. Hold your gun on him,” 
and he approached Steve. 

But he had no idea that the man did have the 
papers. He had already searched the scoundrel too 
thoroughly to have missed any hiding place for the 
deeds his father had entrusted to him. Chet felt 
very bad indeed. 

I tell you boys — and you might as well under- 
stand me,” said the man, Steve, threateningly, ‘‘ I 
haven’t got those deeds. I’ve dropped ’em some- 
where — and I don’t know where. Back where we 
camped at noon, maybe. That’s straight.” 

‘‘Let’s look around the camp here,” proposed 
Dig, knowing how unhappy his chum felt, and wish- 
ing to help. 

He threw an armful of light wood on the fire and 


Chet’s Determination 275 

the blaze sprang up immediately, illuminating the 
clearing more fully. Already Dig had collected their 
possessions into a heap. He found every article 
they had missed. 

Searching the camp did no good, however. As 
Dig said, they did not leave a leaf unturned. But 
the deeds were not to be found. Their size and 
the stiffness of the legal paper on which they were 
written would have made it impossible for Steve to 
have hidden the documents in any small space. Sup- 
posing he had doubted the honesty of Tony (which 
he well might) Steve may have thought of hiding the 
papers before he went to sleep. But where? 

The boys almost tore his saddle to pieces looking 
for the documents. They pulled off his boots and 
made sure the papers were not in his socks. When 
they got through their final search they were con- 
vinced that the deeds were not on either man or 
anywhere about the camp. 

“ What do you think, Chet? asked Dig, in. a low 
tone. ‘‘ Is the fellow telling the truth ? ’’ 

‘‘ I am inclined to believe he is,’’ Chet returned, 
with a sigh. It’s a tough proposition. I feel 
dreadfully bad about it. What will father say?” 

“ But, Chet I He can’t blame us.” 


276 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

He’ll blame me. And why shouldn’t he ? He 
entrusted me with the deeds and I had no business 
to lose them.” 

“ Well ! ” said Dig slowly. What shall we do 
now? Going to leave these fellows tied up for the 
wolves to eat ? ” 

‘‘ Hey ! ” shouted Tony. Don’t you do that. 
There are wolves about.” 

Chet picked up Tony’s old rifle and noted its make 
and calibre. Then he looked at the long barreled 
pistol they had taken away from the other man. 
There were no other weapons in the possession of 
the two scoundrels. 

‘‘ We’ll untie them, I reckon, and let them up,” 
Chet said slowly. ‘‘ Nothing else to do that I can 
see. But I want you fellows to understand,” he 
added, facing the men, ‘‘ that we both carry rifles 
that will outshoot this old piece of junk,” and he 
tapped Tony’s gun, “ by about an eighth of a mile. 
Don’t come fooling around our camp again, for if 
you do we’ll shoot,” and he said it in a tone that 
carried conviction. 

Neither of the men said a word as the boys care- 
fully removed the strong ropes. Then Dig picked 
up their possessions, and carried them to a distance 


Chet’s Determination 277 

— yet not so far away that the light of the campfire 
could not be seen. Later he brought the horses and 
the rifles. 

When the rifles were in their hands Chet agreed 
to leave the scoundrels alone. But he advised the 
men to keep a bright fire going for the rest of the 
night. 

‘‘If we see it die down at all/’ Chet threatened 
grimly, “ whichever of us is awake will be very apt 
to send a bullet or two over here to wake you up. 
Come on. Dig,” and he walked backwards out of 
the rascals’ camp. 

The boys cooked and ate a hearty supper — and 
they needed it. Chet sat so that he could see into 
the rascals’ camp and he kept the heavy rifle beside 
him. Of course, had the two men begun stirring 
around, he would only have fired into the tree-tops 
to scare them ; but as he told Digby, a firm stand was 
necessary. 

“ And where they go, we go,” Chet Havens de- 
clared. “ They have lost the deeds, without much 
doubt. But they’ll go to look for them. That 
Steve will remember where he dropped them.” 

“ Do you mean to tag around after those chaps ? ” 
gasped his chum. 


278 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ Yes, I do. That is my determination,” said 
Chet, nodding vigorously. “ It is our best chance to 
find the papers, whether they have dropped them, or 
whether Steve was lying about it and has got them 
hidden away somewhere.” 

'' He said he might have dropped them back where 
they camped,” Dig said reflectively. 

“ Well, they haven’t camped but once since they 
robbed us, and that’s sure. That was for their noon 
bite. Where that was we have no idea. We just 
have to watch them ! ” 

Both boys were excited by the adventure of the 
evening and Chet declared that he could not sleep at 
all; so he took the first watch. He heard nothing 
of the two men but be noted that their fire was kept 
burning brightly. 

Dig was not unfaithful to his duty during the last 
of the night, either; but he awoke Chet about dawn 
by shaking him vigorously. 

“ Hi ! come alive ! ” urged the slangy youngster in 
a hoarse whisper. 

“ What’s the matter? ” demanded Chet, sitting up. 

“ Those fellows are getting ready to move out. If 
you want to follow them, we have got to get a move 
on.” 


Chet’s Determination 279 

Dig already had the coffee over the fire and the 
meat ready for broiling. It seemed that the other 
camp had been astir for some time. The sky was 
growing light and Tony had brought up the horses. 

‘‘ I have an idea they’ll try to get away from us,” 
Chet said. “ But we’ll fool them. Hero and Poke 
can travel twice as much trail in a day as those sorry 
ponies they have.” 

'' Right ! ” agreed Dig. 

The boys had only enough water in their canteens 
for breakfast — none for the horses, or for their 
own ablutions. ‘‘ We’ll wait till we reach the first 
water-hole,” Chet advised. ‘‘ Cinch on the saddles, 
Dig.” 

They had time to eat a good breakfast, however. 
But Dig grumbled over one thing. 

‘‘ I’d give a dollar for a hunk of bread ! ” he de- 
clared. 

We’ll appreciate white-flour bread all the more 
when we get it again,” his chum told him. 

Suddenly the boys saw the two men clamber into 
their saddles. They started back for the edge of 
the timber. Chet and Dig were ready and quickly 
fastened their blanket-rolls upon their saddles. They 
led their mounts to the open plain. 


200 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

There they saw Steve and Tony cantering away 
in an easterly direction, taking the back track. 

“ They’re going back to that camp of theirs where 
Steve says he lost the deeds. Dig,” Chet declared 
eagerly. '' Come on ! ” 

I’m with you,” agreed his chum and spurred the 
black horse after the bay. 

They had not gone a mile when the men looked 
back and saw that they were pursued. The boys 
did not draw near to them but they showed a dogged 
intention of keeping on their trail. 

“ That Steve-man is madder’n a hatter,” chuckled 
Dig. “ He don’t like our company a little bit.” 

The men drew in their horses and glared back at 
the trail boys. The latter stopped their mounts as 
well and sat calmly, waiting. The men were in 
eager and angry conference. It was plain that they 
did not wholly agree as to their future course. 

Finally Steve jerked his pony around and can- 
tered away toward the southwest. Tony followed 
more slowly, and evidently against his will. The 
boys waited until they were some distance off, and 
then turned their own horses in the same direc- 
tion. 

‘‘ If I knew where they had camped yesterday noon 


Chet’s Determination 


281 


— this side of the river, of course — Fd say, let’s 
go there and search the camping place,” said Chet 
thoughtfully. “ But it would take too long to find 
the place, and meanwhile the scoundrels might be 
riding hard for Grub Stake and fooling us. For 
there’s always the chance that that fellow Steve has 
the deeds, after all.” 

“ They weren’t on him, that’s sure,” remarked 
Digby. 

“ He might even have had them hidden in that 
hollow log. We didn’t think to search it,” Chet re- 
joined. “No! our best course is to keep watch of 
them.” 

“ Come on, then,” said his chum, tightening Poke’s 
rein. “ They’re getting a good way in the lead.” 

There was not much chance of the rascals getting 
away from them, however. Not for the first few 
hours, at least. The strip of timber they soon rode 
through was not very wide, and out upon the other 
side the open plain faced them again. 

All the time the quarry was bearing off toward 
the Grub Stake trail. The mining town, Chet fig- 
ured, could not be much more than fifty miles away 
now. They had come west a long way since first 
seeing the herd of buffaloes that had toled them off 


282 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

I 

the trail and caused Dig to abandon his friend, the 
maverick. 

‘'If they are going to Grub Stake we^ll be able to 
put a spoke in their wheel with Mr. Morrisy,-’ said 
Chet. “ We’ll hope Steve hasn’t the deeds any 
more than we have. Of course, my recommenda- 
tion to the^Wells Fargo Express Company was with 
the deeds, too; but my description doesn’t fit either 
of those rascals, I hope — nor can they sign my 
name. Father’s money will be safe.” 

“ It puzzles me why they are going at all, if they 
haven’t the papers,” Dig observed. 

“ Maybe they are going for grub. They can’t 
have much — and a mighty poor outfit for camping, 
anyway. I didn’t see any meat in their camp last 
night,” Chet said. 

“ That might be the reason. Well, we need some 
stuff ourselves. I hope they lead us straight to 
town.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


“the king of them all"’ 

Following the two men who had robbed them, 
but who had been later overcome by the chums, 
was, as Dig announced, a tame sort of job. The 
mounts of the trail boys were so much superior to 
the ponies ridden by the men, that there was little 
danger of the pursued outwitting the pursuers on 
the open plain. 

But before many hours the course followed would 
bring the two parties into a hilly country, and Chet 
well knew that then they would have to be sharp 
to keep directly on the men’s trail. 

“Just the same, we can read signs pretty well,” 
he told his chum ; “ and by riding close to them I 
don’t believe that Steve can beat us. I’m sure Tony 
is too clumsy to hide his trail at all.” 

“ He’s strong as an ox, though,” said Dig, reflec- 
tively. “ We must be mighty careful, Chet, that 
Tony never comes to a clinch with either of us. If 
he does — good-bye ! ” 


283 


284 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ We mustn’t let either get within pistol range,” 
Chet said quietly. “We know that already.” 

It was, indeed, rather a delicate situation. The 
boys were not at all sure that the thieves would not 
do them bodily harm if they got the chance. Two 
boys certainly would be no match for two men 
if they came together unarmed. 

But their superior mounts and superior weapons 
gave the chums considerable confidence, if it did not 
reduce their caution. Even Dig was tempted to 
take no risks in approaching the villains. 

Every mile they travelled brought the high hills 
nearer. Their outline was rugged and the forest 
that clothed their sides for the most part, thick. 
Somewhere up in those hills was the site of Grub 
Stake. 

When the men stopped for a noonday rest and 
lunch, so did the boys. Fortunately it was beside 
a stream, so the two camps did not have to be 
near together. But Tony Traddles had the impu- 
dence to come somewhat near the chums and 
shout : 

“Say! you boys have had plenty of luck hunt- 
ing. Ain’t you got more meat than you want ? We 
ain’t seen even a grouse.” 


‘^The King of Them All” 285 

Tell him ‘ No/ ” whispered Digby. “ The cheek 
of him! ’^ 

But Chet saw that they would have to throw away 
some of the buffalo steaks if they were not soon 
eaten. The weather was too hot to carry fresh meat 
far in a blanket-roll. So he said: 

Let’s give them some. It won’t hurt us.” 

‘‘ Huh ! no, but I hope it will choke them,” growled 
Dig. Giving sustenance to the enemy. Very bad 
judgment, Chet.” 

Oh, well,” said his chum and started with a 
couple of big steaks to meet Tony. 

‘‘ I’ll keep a gun in my hand,” said Dig, behind 
him. ‘‘ I wouldn’t trust that Tony as far as I could 
swing an elephant by the tail ! ” 

But the man received the meat with some expres- 
sions of gratitude. ** I ain’t in with this sharp,” he 
whispered to Chet, and pointing with his thumb over 
his shoulder at the man Steve, for any money, or 
like o’ that. I didn’t know just what he was after 
till he’d got them papers off’n you.” 

Well, he got them,” said Chet shortly. 

But he ain’t got ’em now,” said the fellow, with 
a quick grin. “ The chump lost ’em — somewhere.” 

Chet distrusted Tony Traddles; and he suspected 


286 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

that this all might have been arranged for the pur- 
pose of trying to throw him and Dig off the track. 
So he said nothing, returning to his own camp. 

They spent some time beside the stream; but as 
soon as the other party saddled their horses, the boys 
got ready to leave, too. Steve seemed in an ugly 
humour and Chet and Dig heard him threatening 
Tony. 

‘ When thieves fall out, honest men may get their 
dues,’ is an old saying,” whispered Chet. “ Listen! 
Maybe we can hear something.” 

But they heard nothing of consequence. In ten 
minutes both parties were on horseback and trailing 
across the plain. There were many clumps of trees 
now, and the plain was cut up with gullies and 
rocky eminences which both parties wished to shun. 

They raised several coveys of grouse and Chet 
brought down two brace with his pistol. Dig tried 
to emulate his chum and was bitterly disgusted at 
the result. 

“ Waugh ! ” he grunted. ‘‘ I couldn’t hit the broad 
side of a barn with a cannon firing shrapnel. I 
don’t see how you do it, Chet.” 

Practice — practice, my boy,” quoth his chum. 

'‘Say!” ejaculated Dig. "Those fellows are 


^^The King of Them All” 287 

watching. Hope they see what you do with a pistol, 
and overlook my work.” 

That Steve What-is-it saw me shoot that hawk 
the other day. I guess he knows that we’re good 
shots. And of course Tony Traddles knows we’re 
not tenderfeet.” 

The boys saw Tony blaze away with his rifle sev- 
eral times at the birds, but they didn’t see a feather 
fly. Hitting a bird on the wing with a rifle is' no 
easy task, at best. Chet’s work with the' six-shooter 
was the result of long practice and a certain aptitude 
that the boy had originally possessed. 

If the men were out of meat it looked as though 
they would go hungry to bed, for no other game 
appeared in the course of the afternoon’s ride. 
Evening was already approaching and Dig began to 
grumble because Tony and Steve did not seek a 
camp. 

“ This being paced by a pair of irresponsible 
chumps like them, is no fun. Who knows,” he said, 
but they may keep on all night.” 

Not on those horses they are riding,” declared 
Chet firmly. ‘‘ They’ve been ridden hard already, 
and they are about giving out.” 

“ That’s so, too,” Dig hastened to agree. “ I hate 


288 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

to see a pony punished the way those fellows are 
punishing their mounts. They ought to be jailed for 
that, if for nothing else.” 

The men had headed up the long slope of a low 
hill. It was timbered, but scantily ; and there were 
many rocks cropping out of the soil. The boys had 
not seen water lately and they were anxious to re- 
fresh their horses and themselves. 

‘‘ I hope there's a spring on the far side of this 
hill,” Chet said. 

‘‘Say! there’s something over there!” exclaimed 
his chum. “ Look at Tony! ” 

The big, hairy man had turned in his saddle and 
was vigorously beckoning the boys on. He was un- 
doubtedly excited by something he saw beyond the 
hill, on the summit of which he and his partner now 
were. 

“ What do you suppose he wants ? ” queried Chet 
doubtfully. 

“ Don’t know. See ! they’re both looking over 
there—” 

Dig prepared to ride on, but Chet stayed him. 
“ Have a care, boy,” he said. “ Those fellows 
aren’t above playing some trick on us.” 

“I know they’re not above it,” grinned Digby. 


“The King of Them All” 289 

But I don’t believe they can get us in the open like 
this.” 

Just lay your rifle across your saddle forks. Be 
ready with it — and let them see that you are ready.” 

All right,” agreed his chum, and in that way — 
with rifles in hand — the two boys rode up toward 
the men they had trailed all day. Steve turned and 
saw their caution and his grin was sardonic. But 
Tony was too excited to notice the muzzles of the 
heavy rifles pointing his way as the boys rode up to 
the summit of the hill. 

The hairy man did not shout to them, but ges- 
tured and beckoned. For that reason Chet sus- 
pected that he had sighted game and wanted their 
help in securing it. Even Steve was eagerly watch- 
ing what lay beyond the hill. 

Chet pressed off to one side, so that they were a 
short pistol-shot away from the men. There was a 
thicket just over the summit of the rise that screened 
the horsemen from anything in the valley below ; but 
the men and boys could see through this thicket 
clearly enough to overlook the whole plain. 

There they are ! Cricky, Chet ! ” whispered Dig, 
the first to spy the game. ‘‘ Buffaloes again. And 
Chet — ■ look ! There’s the king of them all ! ” 


290 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Grazing below them was the royal game they had 
already chased, and the huge bull was with them. 
Chet swiftly counted them and found fifteen. It 
was the same herd they had seen before and from 
which they had already taken toll of the robe and 
horns Dig carried behind his saddle. 

This was a steep hillside they looked down, and 
the valley between it and the next rise was narrow. 
It was, indeed, like a pocket in the hills, and the op- 
posite wall of the pocket was even steeper than this 
one. 

It was an ideal grazing ground for the herd, how- 
ever. There was abundant grass, a limpid stream 
ran through the valley, and there was plenty of shade. 
Chet knew enough about the habits of the huge ani- 
mals to know that they would not move from such a 
feeding ground before morning, at least, unless they 
were frightened. 

‘‘ By all the hoptoads that were chased out of 
Ireland ! ” quoth Dig, in awe, “ isn’t that bull a huge 
one? Did you ever dream of anything like him, 
Chet?” 

‘‘No. He’s the biggest thing I ever saw,” ac- 
knowledged his chum. 

“ We didn’t see him to such advantage before,” 


^‘The King of Them All” 291 

murmured Dig. Oh cricky ! how I’d like to catch 
him! ” 

Catch him ! ” exclaimed Chet. " Shoot him, you 
mean.” 

‘‘ U-h-huh ! ” grunted Dig. “ Maybe.” Then, 
with a grin : “ But I roped that little maverick — 

why not that buster down there ? ” 

Chet took this as one of Dig’s jokes. He swerved 
a little toward the men and when he was near enough 
he spoke: 

“ It’s too near dark to stalk those fellows to-night. 
If they’re not startled they’ll be right there in the 
morning. Better chance to shoot one then.” 

“ All right, Chet,” said Tony easily. “ You’re 
the doctor. We ain’t got guns that are re’lly fit to 
put up against them beasts. But you’ve got the 
rifles all right. You’ve killed one o’ them already.” 

Yes. And give us half a chance and we’ll kill 
another,” the boy said. Where you going to 
camp? That stream either rises back in that tim- 
ber, or some springs that feed it have their rise 
there.” 

‘‘ It’s a good place — and gives us shelter, too,” 
Tony said. 

Steve would not even look at the boys, but he 


292 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

headed his tired horse for the grove in question. 
Dig rode close to Chet and whispered : 

You give them the choice of camps. What’ll we 
do?” 

“ jWe’ll put up with what we can get. I don’t pro- 
pose to let them get situated where they can look 
down on us.” 

“ Oh ! I see,” returned his chum, marvelling. 

The men had the grace to camp some ways down 
the hill beside a clear rill. That gave the chums 
a chance to establish themselves at the head of the 
run, where the spring bubbled out from under the 
roots of a gigantic tree. It was a beautiful spot, 
and, had the boys not been so worried, and so doubt- 
ful of their neighbours, they would have considered 
this an ideal camping place. 

Just as they had the horses picketed and their own 
fire burning, Dig saw Tony ascending the hill. 
‘‘ Here comes that big oaf,” he muttered to Chet. 
‘‘ Look out for him.” 

But Tony’s hands were empty and he came along 
with a foolish kind of grin on his face. 

‘‘ Don’t you boys git too previous and shoot at me,” 
he called. “ I ain’t aimin’ to hurt you none. I’m 
jest cornin’ a-borryin’.” 


‘The King of Them All” 


293 


“ Borrowing what ? ” asked Chet. 

“ Say ! you’ve borrowed enough from us, I should 
think ! ” ejaculated Dig, with disgust. 

“ Well ! you shouldn’t have such a temptin’ outfit,” 
and Tony chuckled. He had stopped at a distance, 
however, for Chet had loosened the six-shooter in 
his belt and the man respected the hint. 

“What do you want to borrow, Tony?” asked 
Chet quietly. 

“ Why, I tell ye frank an’ open, boys,” he said, 
“we want meat an’ we want it bad. If you shoot 
one o’ them buffalo you’ll give us some, won’t ye? ” 

“ All you want,” replied Chet shortly. “ We had 
to leave most of the other carcass to the wolves.” 

“ Well, that’s han’some of ye,” agreed Tony. “ I 
don’t suppose ye have more than ye want right now, 
have ye?” he added sheepishly. “Ter tell ye the 
truth — ” 

“ Which must be hard telling for you, Tony ! ” 
broke in Dig. 

“ Ter tell ye the truth,” went on the big man, 
without noticing Dig’s remark, “we ain’t got a 
smitch o’ meat left.” 

“ Say ! we’ve given him enough,” growled Dig, 
looking at Chet. 


294 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

“ We don’t need both these brace of birds,” said 
Chet, who was skinning the grouse. Let’s not be 
piggish.” 

“ Piggish ! by the last hoptoad that was chased 
out of Ireland ! ” gasped his chum. ‘‘ Are you go- 
ing to support these lazy thieves all the rest of the 
way to Grub Stake?” 

Tony came nearer and put a hand beside his mouth, 
as he whispered: 

‘‘ Mebbe we ain’t goin’ right away to Grub Stake. 
You want to watch us close’t if ye expect to keep in 
our company.” 

‘‘ What do you mean, Tony? ” demanded Chet, as 
he tossed the man a pair of the plump birds. 

But the fellow would say no more. He only 
looked sly and grinned in his silly way. When he 
wanted to be obstinate, as Dig said, Tony Traddles 
was the equal of any mule. 


CHAPTER XXVII 
dig’s great idea 

“What do you reckon that nuisance meant?” de- 
manded Digby Fordham the minute Tony Tr addles 
was out of hearing. 

“ He was hinting at something. Whether he 
meant to help us, or confuse us, I do not know,” 
confessed Chet. 

“ He said they were not going to Grub Stake.” 

“ Not at once.” 

“ Well ! where the dickens are they going, then? ” 
demanded the disgusted Dig. 

“ I don’t know. Unless the story of that Steve’s 
having lost the deeds is true, and he means to try to 
slip us and go back to the place where he thinks he 
dropped them.” 

“ He’ll have a hot time slipping us,” the other boy 
said boastfully. 

“ I don’t know. He evidently knows this country 
better than we do.” 

“ That’s easy, for we don’t know it at all ! ” ex- 
claimed Dig. 


295 


296 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

'' Well, there may be a chance for them to fool 
us in these rocky hills. Maybe this proposal for a 
buffalo hunt is just for that purpose.’’ 

‘‘Not if they need meat so badly as they seem 
to,” remarked the other boy, with more thoughtful- 
ness than he usually displayed. 

“ I see ! ” exclaimed Chet quickly. “ You think 
they’ll wait to provision themselves before they take 
the back trail ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I’d just like to know,” Chet murmured. 

He was rather silent all through supper. They 
could look right down into the other camp and see 
the two rascals moving about their own fire. The 
night was still and the air very sweet. They were 
not troubled by gnats much, either, and the horses 
were not restless. 

Dig rolled into his blanket early. Chet did not 
put more fuel on the coals, for he did not want the 
men below to see his movements. They kept up a 
good fire for some time, however. 

The boy knew the men were talking, for occa- 
sionally the breeze brought to him the sound of their 
voices. Dig slept like a top, and Chet slipped out 
of the camp, passed near the horses to see that they 


Dig’s Great Idea 297 

were all right, and then, pistol in belt, crept quietly 
down the hillside. 

Eavesdropping was not a game he loved to play ; 
but the situation seemed to call for it. If he could 
learn something about the plans of the two rascals, 
it might help him decide his own course. For Chet 
Havens felt deeply the responsibility that circum- 
stances had thrust upon him. 

He was naturally a thoughtful boy, and when his 
father had talked so seriously to him regarding the 
errand to Grub Stake, Chet had no idea that he 
would fail in any particular to fulfil his father’s 
wishes. 

It was farthest from his thoughts (as it probably 
was from Mr. Havens’) that anybody would attempt 
to steal the deeds from Chet. The boy accused 
himself of having been careless, however; in no 
other way could the deeds have been taken from 
him. 

Now he must get them back if it was a possible 
thing. Chet was prepared to run into some danger, 
if necessary, to accomplish this end. Therefore he 
crept near to the scoundrels’ camp and chanced a 
fight with them if they should find him there. 

They did not seem to be discussing anything of 


298 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

much moment .to Chet, however, when he first es- 
tablished himself behind a tree within a few feet of 
the campfire. Tony was speaking: 

“ Well! we gotter have some o’ that buffalo meat 
— ' that’s all there is to it.” 

‘‘ If those boys kill one,” sneered Steve. 

“ Oh, they’ll kill one all right,” said Tony, with 
confidence. You’ve seen what they can do with 
a gun — ’specially that Chet Havens. He’s a crack- 
ajack! ” 

Oh, I see,” grumbled the other man. “ Con- 
found ’em! If it wasn’t for their guns I’d drive 
’em out of the country easy.” 

Well, wait till we can load up with some grub 
before taking the back track; that’s what I say,” 
growled Tony, puffing on his eternal pipe. 

‘‘ You think altogether too much of your stomach, 
Tony,” complained the other man. 

“Why shouldn’t I think of it? Nobody else is 
goin’ to,” declared the hairy one, philosophically. 
“ Tony Traddles has had to look after his own self 
since he was knee high to a hoppergrass. Ain’t no- 
body cared a continental for him — no, sir! Old 
man Havens chucked him out’n his job like he was a 
dawg.” 


Dig’s Great Idea 299 

And I should think you’d be sore on this son of 
his, for it,” observed Steve. 

‘‘ Huh ! I try ter be. But them boys are such 
smart rascals ! They kin shoot an’ foller a trail, an’ 
all that. They are free-handed, too.” 

There we get right back to Tony’s stomach 
again,” snarled the other man. You make me 
sick! ” 

‘‘ Well, it don’t make me sick to pick the bones of 
a fat bird that somebody else has shot,” quoth Tony 
Traddles. “And you ain’t so much!” he added, 
with some peevishness. “ You said if you got them 
papers from the kid you’d make a hunk of money, 
and I should have some of it. And then you go and 
lose ’em — if you lost ’em.” 

“ Oh, I lost ’em all right,” returned Steve, “ or 
I’d not be knocking around this country with a couple 
of boys tagging me.” 

“ And you think you can find ’em ? ” queried Tony. 

“ I believe I can. And I want to shake these kids 
so as to do it. When I slipped into the river as we 
swam the horses from that island, I flung my coat 
ashore to keep it dry. Remember ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ That’s when I lost the deeds. The packet fell 


300 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

out of my pocket right then. I was in too much of 
a hurry getting that crazy pony ashore to think of 
anything else.’^ 

‘‘Well! it’s a long way back,” remarked Tony. 
“ And I insist on getting meat first. You can’t shoot 
game with your pistol, and this old gun of mine ain’t 
much good. I told you so in the first place.” 

“If we wait for these boys to shoot something, 
we’ll have to kill another day,” grumbled Steve. 
“ We can only slip out and leave ’em in the dark.” 

“ Then make it to-morrow night,” said Tony, with 
decision, and he rolled over and knocked the heel 
out of his pipe into the fire. 

Chet stole away from the encampment of the two 
rascals within a few minutes. Tony had pillowed 
his head on his arm and gone to sleep. It was 
Steve’s first watch. 

The boy had heard enough of importance to show 
him that his suspicions were upheld. The man 
really had lost the deeds which he had stolen. 

He had not discovered the loss, in all probability, 
until he was made prisoner and searched by the two 
boys. At once his mind had gone back to his adven- 
ture on the shore of the river, now mentioned to 
Tony Traddles, 


Dig’s Great Idea 301 

Chet was confident that he knew what river was 
meant. It was the shallow stream in which the men 
had striven to hide their trail just after they had 
robbed Chet and Dig. The former believed the 
island spoken of must be below the ford at which he 
and his chum last crossed. 

I could turn back and find that place — pretty 
nearly — in a day and a half,” thought Chet. 

That’s where the fellows aimed for when they 
started out the morning after we captured them. 

“ Our sticking to their trail made them turn this 
way. Steve is going to try to throw us off and go 
back to find the papers. Why not heat him to it? ” 

Chet had sufficient food for reflection to keep him 
wide awake during his vigil. He let the fire die out 
and he kept back in the darkness, watching the other 
camp continually. He saw Steve move about occa- 
sionally ; but the fellow did not offer to come up the 
hill; and as for Tony, by the way he had gone to 
sleep, Chet was quite sure he would not be easily 
aroused. 

When Chet awoke his chum and partner he said 
nothing about what he had overheard at the other 
camp. Only, he advised his friend to watch the man 
below them closely. 


302 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

'' ril keep my eye on him, all right,'’ promised Dig. 

B-r-r-r ! it’s cold ! What did you let the fire go out 
for, Chet?” 

“ It’s safer. You can see better without the light 
flickering in your eyes. And you can stir around 
and keep warm,” said Chet. It’s me that’s got to 
lie cold. Wake me up in good season, now.” 

Dig obeyed that last request. He rousqd Chet just 
as soon as the dawn streaked the eastern sky. Dig 
Fordham was excited, too. 

Whew, Chet ! ” he whispered. “ I’ve thought up 
the greatest scheme ! ” 

“ What is it? ” demanded Chet, yawning. ‘‘ My ! 
but you did get me up early enough, in all good con- 
science ! ” 

Don’t be a lazybones. The coffee is made,” said 
Dig. And don’t forget that we’re to have another 
crack at the buffalo.” 

“Yes? Well, maybe.” 

“ Whew ! where’s your enthusiasm ? ” demanded 
Dig, disappointed. 

“ Wait till I get the stickers out of my eyes,” said 
Chet, going to the full spring. 

After he had ducked his head into the cold water. 


Dig’s Great Idea 303 

and scrubbed his face and hands and behind his ears, 
he felt more awake to the situation. 

‘‘ Whafs the wonderful idea, Dig? ’’ he mumbled, 
as he rubbed himself dry on the towel he had had 
wisdom enough to bring along. Camping out with- 
out a towel is simply punishment; and it was easy 
enough to dry the towel in the sun while they ate 
breakfast. 

I reckon you don’t want to hear about it,” 
grumbled Dig. 

Oh, go on ! I was half asleep. What have you 
been conjuring up, old man? ” 

“ Why, it’s about those buffaloes,” Dig whispered, 
as though he feared somebody would hear him be- 
sides Chet. “ Rather about the big bull.” 

‘‘ Well?” 

Let’s capture him ! ” exclaimed Dig. 

Huh? Oh, yes, another joke. Put salt on his 
tail?”' 

By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land ! ” declared Dig earnestly, “ this is a good 
thing.” 

‘‘ I don’t see how you’re going to capture a creature 
as big as an elephant — and twice as mad.” 


304 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

That’s where my scheme comes in.” 

Explain ! explain ! ” urged Chet, spreading the 
towel on a bush. 

“ Why, ril tell you : Just as soon as it began to 
grow light this morning I saw Tony lie down and go 
to sleep. His partner was dead to the world, too; 
so I knew they wouldn’t bother us. I took the 
glasses and went just outside the timber, there, and 
tried to find the buffaloes.” 

‘‘ They’re all right, aren’t they? ” asked Chet, with 
interest. 

Sure. They spent the night in one of those small 
groves down there. They’ve just begun to come out 
to graze.” 

‘‘ I see.” 

“ Well, I spied out the whole valley from where I 
stood. There’s a band of antelope further down, 
too. But we don’t care for them.” 

‘‘ Not while the buffaloes are in sight,” chuckled 
Chet. 

“ Now, listen! Across the valley I saw the open- 
ings of two or three narrow gulches — regular 
pockets in the hill over there.” 

‘‘ Hey ! ” cried Chet, sitting up both physically and 
mentally. ‘‘ What is this, boy ? ” 


Dig’s Great Idea 305 

“ My idea/’ said Dig, with confidence, ‘‘ and it’s a 
good one. Those pockets can be made into corrals 
— at least, one of them can.” 

“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Chet. “You 
think we can corral those buffaloes ? ” 

“ Maybe the big one. Sell him to some speculator 
— • or a showman,” said Dig. 

“ Say! that would beat all the hoptoads that ever 
hopped out of Ireland,” declared Chet. “ Let’s have 
those glasses.” 

“ Wait till you have your breakfast.” 

“Breakfast be jiggered!” ejaculated Chet. “I 
want to see what those pockets look like from out 
yonder. To corral some of those buffaloes ! Well ! 
that would beat shooting them, I should think,” and 
he hurried away from the campfire. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


GREAT LUCK 

The sweep of the hill-bound vale was visible for ten 
miles from the hillside where the boys were en- 
camped. They were almost at the head of the valley. 
The buffaloes grazed five miles below. 

The slope of ground bounding the valley on the 
north and east was too steep to tempt the buffaloes to 
mount and graze upon it. Of course, once fright- 
ened and with better escape shut off, the herd would 
not refuse to come over this hill. Buffaloes are al- 
most as sure-footed as dear. 

The other side of the valley — the south side — 
was bounded by steep terraces which would have been 
hard for a man to climb in many places. These steep 
walls were broken here and there by gashes cut in the 
hillside by nature in ancient times. 

As far as Chet could see, these gulches were not 
barren. Grass and brush grew plentifully as far up 
the cuts as he could see, and here and there a tall tree 
stood, topping the walls of the pocket. 

Digby Fordham’s suggestion regarding the cap- 
306 


Great Luck 


307 

ture of some of the buffaloes was well worth attempt- 
ing. At least, so it seemed to Chet’s enthusiastic 
mind. He was just as eager to try to drive the 
buffalo herd as was his chum. 

He went back to breakfast briskly. Dig had 
everything all prepared. 

What do you think of it? ” he asked doubtfully. 

We’ll try it. But we have to fool those two fel- 
lows down below there, as well as the buffaloes.” 

Why so ? ” asked Dig curiously. 

Chet told him in a low voice while they ate just 
what he had heard at the other camp the evening be- 
fore. He believed that Steve was watching for a 
chance to get away from them; but that, because of 
Tony’s insistence, the two villains would wait until 
they obtained some meat. 

Tony isn’t one to starve uncomplainingly in any 
cause,” Chet said decidedly. ‘‘ And Steve -doesn’t 
want to lose him — 

‘‘ ,Why not ? He’s not much good to him, seems to 
me,” said Dig. 

Figure out how you’d like to be in the wilder- 
ness yourself, all alone,” said Chet. ‘‘ Especially 
when there is occasion to keep watch. A man can’t 
travel all day and keep watch all night, too.” 


3o 8 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

I reckon thaf s so/’ agreed Dig. 

‘‘If for no other reason, Steve needs Tony. 
They’ll keep together. They have had no luck hunt- 
ing. Haven’t the proper guns. They are depend- 
ing on us — ” 

“To be their commissary department, eh?” 
growled Dig. 

“ That’s about it.” 

“ The cheek of ’em 1 ” 

“ Well, I don’t know. As long as we want to keep 
near them I’d just as soon have them dependent upon 
us for food,” Chet reflected. 

“ You’re still going to follow them, then? ” 

“To the bitter end,” chuckled Chet. “ When that 
fellow goes back for those deeds, I’m going to be 
right with him.” 

“ I hope he won’t fool us,” Dig said doubtfully. 

“ He won’t if we keep our eyes open. I hope we 
are as smart as he is ! ” exclaimed Chet, with scorn. 
“ Well ! I’m willing to feed them, as I say. But I’m 
going to give them something to do — and in doing 
it they’ll be right where we can watch them.” 

“ While we’re hunting those buffaloes ? ” asked 
Dig excitedly. 

“ Yes, sir ! Now listen, and don’t interfere.” 


Great Luck 


309 


‘‘ Fm an oyster/’ said Dig promptly. 

The men were now astir in the camp below. The 
boys finished their breakfast and cleared everything 
away. They packed their outfit as though for a day’s 
march. Then, while Dig watered the horses and 
fastened the blanket-rolls to the cantles of the sad- 
dles, Chet approached the other camp. 

“ Hey, you fellows ! ” he called, “ if you want any 
of the buffalo meat that we hope to kill, you’ve got to 
help get it.” 

‘‘ Sure, Chet,” cried Tony briskly. 

“ That’s understood,” said the other man, though 
not very graciously. 

Want us to drive ’em for you? ” queried Tony, 
who was no bad hunter himself, when he had a good 
weapon and a decent mount. Both the rifle and the 
pony he now possessed were wretched. 

Chet told them what he desired. He and Dig 
were going to ride west to head the buffaloes off. 
They proposed going back over the crown of the 
hill and entering the valley some miles below the spot 
where the herd of buffaloes was now feeding. 

“ Although we’ll approach them almost down 
wind, we’ll trust to the speed of our mounts to get in 
a couple of shots, at least. The whole herd may 


310 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

tear up this way. But we’ll probably wound one, if 
not two, and they’ll lag behind. If you are ready 
for them, that old rifle of Tony’s — even your 
pistol,” and he spoke directly to Steve, ‘‘ may put the 
finishing touch to our work.” 

‘‘ Good boy. You’re right,” said Tony briskly. 

‘‘ I want you to lengthen your lines with your 
lariats, and let your ponies drift out into the valley. 
If the buffaloes are frightened and come on the run, 
they won’t bother about the ponies. You fellows 
keep down, of course, until the beasts are near. 
Then up and at them ! ” 

‘‘ They’ll easily keep out of the range of our guns,” 
said the man Steve, doubtfully. 

Then they’ll have to turn back on us,” Chet said, 
confidently. “We’ll have them between two fires. 
That’s the only sure way we have of getting one of 
the beasts. Do you want to do your share ? ” 

“ You got the rights of it, Chet,” said Tony Trad- 
dles. “ Sure we agree.” 

“ Speak for yourself ! ” snarled the other man. 

“ Well, if you don’t want to eat — ” began Chet; 
but Tony broke in with : 

“ Aw, don’t mind him ! He’s a born sorehead. 
Of course we want to eat. We’ll do like you say.” 


Great Luck 


311 

“ Then let’s see you get your horses down there on 
the plain,” said Chet promptly. “ When I see you 
fixed right, Dig and I will ride around to head the 
buffaloes off.” 

Perhaps Steve saw through Chet’s subterfuge. It 
would not have taken a very keen man to do so. 
But he evidently agreed to the proposal because Tony 
urged it. Tony had an appetite. 

The men finished their breakfast (it wasn’t a big 
one, as the boys well knew) and soon rode down the 
hill into the grassy valley. Thickets of scrubby trees 
hid their movements from the grazing animals. 

Chet and Dig rode off up the hill ; but they did not 
lose sight of the men whom they so distrusted — not 
for some time. Through the screen of verdure that 
topped the long hill, or ridge, the boys could see down 
into the valley and keep watch of both the men and 
the grazing buffaloes. 

They saw the former reach the last shelter down 
the valley and there dismount, deposit their goods 
and saddles, and then rope out their two mounts. 
As the boys had first stalked the buffaloes several 
days before, Tony and Steve did now. 

Satisfied, Chet and Dig put spurs to their mounts 
and covered six or seven miles along the wooded 


312 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

ridge very quickly. Occasionally they spied upon 
the buffaloes and knew that nothing had disturbed 
the animals’ placidity. They were comfortably graz- 
ing on the bottomland. 

After viewing the exposed valley through the 
glasses for some minutes, Chet announced the pro- 
gramme. Dig, although the originator of the scheme 
to attempt the corralling of some of the buffaloes, 
was quite willing that his chum should take the lead. 

Keeping the screen of wood between them and the 
view of the buffaloes, the chums descended the steep 
hillside into the narrow valley. Its mouth was a 
number of miles west of their position. Directly op- 
posite, and cut into the more abrupt southern wall of 
the valley, was one of the pockets that Dig had first 
discovered and pointed out. They rode there to 
examine it. 

The approach to the gulch could not have been ar- 
ranged better had it been originally intended for a 
trap for wild animals. In similar pockets in the 
hills the boys knew many herds of wild mustangs had 
been caught by hunters in past years. Now the wild 
horses were almost as scarce as the buffaloes. 

On the left hand the hillside was too steep and 


Great Luck 


313 

rocky for any animal with hoofs willingly to run that 
way. Sloping up from the waterside on the right 
hand was a thick hedge of low trees, so closely inter- 
woven that buffaloes, at least, could not burst 
through the barrier. 

The mouth of the pocket was plain, if narrow. It 
was the only escape in sight — if the herd could be 
driven this way. Yet the pocket could be closed 
easily. 

On one side stood a thickly branching tree. If it 
was felled correctly after the animals were enclosed 
not even the big bull buffalo could make his escape. 
The chums saw the possibilities of the place with 
glee. 

“ Whew! ejaculated Dig, it’ll be pie.” 

Couldn’t be better if it were made for us. Now, 
let’s see if it is really a place in which we can bottle 
some of the animals.” 

Cricky I we’ll get the whole herd ! ” boasted Dig. 

Be more modest — be more modest,” urged 
Chet, laughing. Wouldn’t you be satisfied with the 
big bull alone ? ” 

Would a duck swim? ” returned his chum. 

They rode into the gully and looked about them. 


314 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

It was heavily grassed in the bottom; but the sides 
were almost as steep as a wall. No buffalo — no 
matter how nimble — could scale those walls. 

They rode to the head of the gulch. It was some 
eighth of a mile deep, and there were several tall trees 
in it. The soil in the bottom was a rich, alluvial 
deposit that gave verdure of all kinds deep rootage. 
And there was a free-flowing spring. 

‘‘ Pasture here for a hundred head of cattle, I 
declare,’' Dig said. If we can get those buffaloes 
in here, they’ll be in clover until we can find the 
means of capturing or shooting them.” 

“ And what will Tony and that Steve be doing, I 
wonder? ” Chet said doubtfully. 

‘‘ Whew ! I had forgotten them.” 

They’re a part of the pickle, all right,” Chet said, 

and must be figured on.” 

Cricky ! it would be a nice note if they not only 
stole your deeds, but got our buffaloes away from us, 
too.” 

‘‘ Beginning already to lay claim to the buffaloes, 
are you ? ” returned Chet. 

'' Well, we saw them first,” declared the other lad. 

Feeling that the pocket was secure — if they had 
the luck to drive the buffaloes this way, Chet laid out 


Great Luck 


315 

the further plan of action, and Dig agreed. They 
rode back to the brook, watered their horses, hid 
their outfit, save the serviceable camp axe and their 
guns, then cinched up and rode through the brook. 

The trail boys were still hidden from the grazing 
game by thickets of low shrubs. But they knew just 
where the buffaloes were. 

Coming on them from the north side of the valley, 
Chet hoped to shoot at least one and stampede them 
across the brook, instead of up the valley toward the 
spot where the two men were in waiting. 

As Dig had said admiringly, Chet was ‘long- 
headed.’’ He knew the men wanted some meat, and 
that was all. If the boys shot a buffalo where the 
herd now grazed, Steve and Tony would not trouble 
themselves about the remainder of the buffaloes. 

“If we can get the herd across that brook, and 
headed down stream, we’ll stand a good chance of 
corralling them. Dig,” Chet said. “ We’ll cross the 
stream, too, keep near enough to head them off from 
the water, and they’ll be likely to take the first open- 
ing in the hillside that promises escape. They can’t 
get through the thicket below there, and if we keep 
them turned south they’ll find our pocket.” 

“ Whew ! I’m just as excited as I can be,” declared 


3i 6 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Dig. “ Let’s get into action. We’ve played to 
great luck so far ; I hope it doesn’t break on us.” 

'' Ha ! ” laughed Chet. Remember that there 
are two things easily broken — glass and luck.” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


PLENTY OF EXCITEMENT 

The best laid plans are not always successfully, or 
satisfactorily, carried out. There was, as both boys 
knew, a big doubt as to whether they could drive the 
buffaloes in the way they desired ; but, at least, there 
was a good chance that they would kill another of the 
big animals. 

Take a bull. Dig,” advised Chet, as they rode up 
the brook. “ Don’t kill the cows or calves. If we 
should enclose any of the herd in our corral, besides 
the big fellow, I believe we’d have a mighty valuable 
catch.” 

Say ! that would be great,” agreed Dig. 
“ Mebbe we could sell ’em for as much as a hundred 
dollars.” 

And that’s better than selling a little old maver- 
ick for five dollars — eh ? ” laughed his chum. 

The boys trotted their eager mounts up the valley 
and finally came to the last screen of bushes that 
stood between them and the buffalo herd. The ani- 
mals were feeding down the valley, but the wind was 
317 


3i 8 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

not blowing directly in their faces. It was from the 
southwest ; therefore, the odour of the young hunters 
would not be carried to the beasts. 

Chet and Dig again saw the feeding ponies belong- 
ing to the two men who had caused them so much 
trouble. “ And maybe we’ll put them in a hole be- 
fort we get through,” muttered Dig vindictively. 

The boys could be sure that the men were close by, 
when the ponies were so plainly visible. Neither of 
them would start back for that island camp on the 
distant river, afoot. 

So the boys gave their full attention to the buf- 
faloes. Their rifles were in trim and everything was 
ready for the charge. Chet had selected an opening 
in the thicket; he knew the value of a good start in 
attacking such nimble animals as the buffaloes had 
already proven themselves to be. 

Ready, Dig?” Chet asked. 

‘‘ Let her go ! ” replied his friend, and at the same 
moment both horses dashed forward. 

They appeared upon the plain at full speed. They 
were aimed at about the centre of the scattered herd. 
Could they have trusted the two men, they might have 
helped with the chase and bunched the whole herd. 
Instead, it split, and a part of the buffaloes went up 


Plenty of Excitement 319 

the valley, while the others fled directly from the two 
boys, toward the stream. 

The heavy rifles cracked almost simultaneously. 
Chet’s shot brought a vigorous young bull to his 
knees; but Dig missed his quarry. He came up and 
put a ball into Chet’s kill, however, while Chet him- 
self put the third bullet through the wounded beast’s 
vitals. 

Come on ! come on ! ” yelled Chet, excitedly, 
starting Hero on the jump after the part of the herd 
that was scrambling through the brook. 

Dig was after him at once. The boys spread out 
and their horses took the water- jump splendidly. 
The mounts were as wildly excited as their masters. 

The big bull that had inspired Chet and Dig with 
such enthusiasm was in the lead. This was a piece 
of luck that delighted the young trailers. 

'' We’ve got him! we’ve got him! ” cried Digby. 

‘‘ Don’t holler — till — you’re out — of the — 
woods ! ” panted Chet. Goodness ! that big beast 
looks as though he could go right through a brick 
wall. Suppose he turns on us ? ” 

Then you’ll see this boy take to his heels,” re- 
turned Dig, with conviction: 

They did not follow the buffaloes too closely ; and 


320 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

they kept on the water side of them, yet near enough 
so that the frightened animals did not fancy turning 
to run back along the foot of the southern wall of the 
valley. 

The monster buffalo, head down and whip-like tail 
twirling, thundered straight on. The thicket of 
thorny trees was ahead. He couldn’t get through 
that, and he knew it. 

Towards the brook, where was easy escape, was 
likewise a figure on horseback, waving both hands. 
That was Dig. The big buffalo did not want to go 
that way. 

He wheeled and there, right in front of him, was 
the welcome opening of the grassy gulch. In a mo- 
ment he galloped into it. After him galloped seven 
of the herd — all that had followed him in the 
stampede. 

Hurrah ! We’ve got ’em ! ” shrieked Dig, spur- 
ring Poke up the hill. 

‘‘ Keep right before the mouth of that pocket — 
but outside,” cried Chet, throwing himself from the 
saddle, with the axe in his hand. “ Keep Poke mov- 
ing. Don’t let the beasts catch you afoot. If they 
charge back on us, try to scare them into the gulch 
again.” 


Plenty of Excitement 321 

Hot chance Fd have to do that,” muttered Dig. 

But he held his ground while Chet struck steel to 
timber with much vigour. Cutting down a tree of 
this size was no easy task, and well the boy knew it ; 
but he was determined to shut the buffaloes into the 
pocket in the hill. Once the big tree was felled 
across the mouth of the gulch he was very sure the 
herd would be secure. 

' Chet was no poor woodsman. Fie could swing an 
axe as well as a full-grown man, for his father 
owned a wood-lot near the Silent Sue mine, and Chet 
for two years had cut and sledded down to the 
Havens house the winter’s wood. 

But to hammer at this big tree trunk with a short- 
handled hatchet was a more difficult task. 

Dig had to laugh at him, despite the anxiety they 
both felt about the buffaloes. Cricky, Chet ! why 
don’t you use your pocketknife? ” he demanded. 

You’d get it down just as quick.” 

Can you suggest any better way ? ” asked Chet, 
stopping for breath. 

“ You might set fire to it,” grinned his chum. 

“ You keep still, or I’ll make you come here and 
spell me,” said Chet. My goodness ! but my hand 
is getting sore.” 


322 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

‘‘ You’ll have some pretty blisters before you get 
through with that stunt,” said Dig. 

And he was truly a prophet ! Chet was more than 
an hour cutting down the tree, but he had used good 
judgment in placing it and when it fell the mouth of 
the gulch was so closed that no buffalo could get out. 
But Chet was lame, bruised, and blistered. 

“ I declare you had the worst half of the job,” Dig 
said. But just think, old man! we’ve captured 
eight buffaloes, including the king of them all.” 

“We have them cornered — yes. Now we’ve got 
to find somebody either to buy them just as they 
stand in there, or to help us get them out and to a 
market.” 

“ Whew I That’s so. We’ve only begun the job, 
eh?” 

“That’s right. Dig,” Chet replied, nodding his 
head seriously. 

“ At any rate,” the other boy said, “ it’s an ideal 
corral we have ’em in. There is that trickle of 
water, and plenty of grass and green bushes. ‘ All 
the comforts of home.’ What buffalo wouldn’t be 
content in such quarters? ” 

The boys climbed up the hillside, after tethering 
their horses, and crept along over the rocks above the 


Plenty of Excitement 323 

pocket until they could see the herd. Strangely 
enough the big buffalo and his seven companions 
were feeding quietly and whisking flies at the upper 
end of the gorge, their panic entirely departed. 

'' Say ! did you ever see a more peaceful scene ? 
chuckled Digby. ‘‘ They look as tame as barnyard 
cattle, don’t they ? ” 

That’s all right,” replied Chet, “ but I’d hate to 
go down there and try to milk one of those bossies.” 

The beasts were corralled. Chet wasted little time 
in congratulating his chum and himself. Luck and 
foresight had brought about the capture ; but it would 
take something more to make it of any value to the 
chums. Both the boys realised that. 

'' ,We have to get to Grub Stake and interest some- 
body in our haul,” Dig said. “That’s the ticket 
for us.” 

“ And we have something else to do first,” Chet 
replied, as they got back to the horses. “ We’ve left 
those two rascals, Steve and Tony, too long by them- 
selves. I bet they’ve hiked out after those lost deeds 
already.” 

“ What ? without their meat ? ” 

“ Come on ! I reckon the condition of that buf- 
falo we shot will surprise you,” said Chet. 


324 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

And it did. Dig sputtered like an overfilled tea- 
kettle when they reached the place where they had 
dropped the young bull. 

No animal had been drawn to the kill, although 
several timid coyotes sneaked out of sight behind the 
nearest thicket. But the robe was ruined. The 
body had been slashed right into, without any pains 
being taken to butcher it properly. The better parts 
of the carcass had been taken, and the mess that had 
been made of the remainder sickened the two boys. 
They cut off a few shoulder steaks, and got away 
from the spot as soon as possible. 

They got their meat and have hiked out for that 
island in the river,” Chet said, sternly. That^s all 
they wanted, of course. Steve saw his chance to 
start now instead of to-night, and he took it.” 

“We can follow their trail, Chet,” exclaimed Dig. 
“ The nasty things ! They ruined that buffalo.” 

“ We’ll do better than follow their trail,” Chet 
said quickly. 

“ How’s that ? ” 

“ I believe I can find that island they spoke of my- 
self. We’ll see if we cannot beat them to it. Dig. 
Certainly we have the advantage of the best mounts, 
if we don’t know the country as well as Steve does.” 


Plenty of Excitement 325 

They recovered their outfit, built a fire, and cooked 
dinner while their horses rested; then they set out 
toward the east without paying any attention to the 
route followed by their two enemies, nor much to the 
course they had taken in coming to this sheltered 
valley. 

Chet had his compass and he laid as direct a course 
as he knew for the shallow river in question. 

The six remaining members of the buffalo herd 
were out of sight as the boys rode up the valley. 
Where they had gone to was a mystery. 

But you can bet Tony and that other fellow are 
not following them,” remarked Dig, in disgust. 

“ Quite right,” responded Chet. Those scamps 
have got all they wanted.” 

I hope the time will come when we can ‘ call 
quits ’ with ’em,” said Dig. 

Hear ! hear ! Satisfaction is what we’re after — 
and those deeds.” 

The boys crossed the divide and as they went down 
the slope, they struck another watercourse which, be- 
ginning as a small rill, increased in width and volume 
of water very rapidly. They were in sight of this 
stream through the rough country spreading east- 
ward until past mid-afternoon. 


326 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

By that time they had ridden many miles and were 
saddle-weary. The horses, too, showed the effect of 
hard work. 

We’d ought to breathe them awhile,” Dig urged, 
for he was very careful of horseflesh. 

Not yet. Tm sorry for them,’’ Chet said, ‘‘ but 
we’ve got to keep moving just as long as daylight 
holds, at least. You know, we don’t know this 
country after dark, and that Steve evidently 
does.” 

But we must be travelling almost two miles to 
their one,” Dig said. 

“ Granted. But they may be going more directly 
to that island than we,” Chet told him. ‘‘ Though I 
believe this stream we’re following empties into the 
very river we’re in search of.” 

We never saw this creek before.” 

No. It’s a good deal farther south than the way 
we came with those rascals.” 

Well ! I reckon you know, Chet.” 

“ I know the points of the compass,” returned his 
friend. ‘‘ The sun doesn’t fool us.” 

‘‘Of cours-e — we’re going toward Silver Run 
again, not toward Grub Stake.” 

“ Quite right. And goodness ! ” added Chet, “ we 


Plenty of Excitement 327 

are spending a lot more time in this trip than I ex- 
pected to. I wonder what father will say ? ” 

Say ! It’s been a lot different from what I ex- 
pected. Whew ! but we have worked, Chet.” 

Aren’t you just right? ” and Chet looked sadly 
at his blistered palms. 

They rode hard and were weary and hungry long 
before sundown. The chums did not talk much — 
they seemed to be talked out. The uncertainty of 
the errand they rode on, and what they had already 
gone through, made both boys sober. There had 
been excitement enough, certainly, on this journey. 
They had been in peril and had taken part in sturdy 
adventure — enough in the past few days to satisfy 
most boys for a year. 

‘‘ We were looking for a little fun on the trail,” 
Chet said reflectively. ‘‘ But, my goodness. Dig ! we 
certainly have got more than we bargained for.” 

“ Yes, and it isn’t ended,” responded his chum, 
shaking his head. “ Wait till we meet up with that 
Steve and Tony again — if we do ! ” 

‘‘ That doesn’t bother me so much as the chances, 
for and against, of our meeting up with those lost 
deeds. That’s what’s troubling yours truly,” said 
Chet. 


r 


CHAPTER XXX 


HOW IT ENDED 

In the dim dusk of late evening the trail boys sud- 
denly came down to the river bank. They were lead- 
ing their mounts, for the way was so rough they did 
not want to risk a misstep on the faithful creatures’ 
part in the dark. 

As Chet Havens expected, the stream they had 
followed so long — almost from the valley where 
they had corralled the buffaloes — fell into the wide 
but shallow river they had crossed several days be- 
fore on the trail of the thieves. 

The horses’ sides were heaving and their heads 
hung almost to the ground; but Chet, as leader of 
the expedition, was not willing to allow them much 
rest. 

Just a mouthful of grass and a drink of water 
after it,” he said to his chum. ‘‘We must wait for 
our supper until later.” 

“ All right as far as we are concerned, Chet,” said 
the other boy, more seriously than was his wont. 
“ But I don’t want you to forget one important fact.” 

328 


How It Ended 


329 


Whafs that? ” 

“ These horses have been grain fed until we 
brought them out on this trip. We have ridden 
them mighty hard, Chet — mighty hard. They are 
beginning to suffer now. Grass for a grain fed 
horse is like feeding a man on breakfast food when 
he’s been used to a meat diet. The man will quickly 
give out, and so will the horse.” 

“ I’m sorry,” said his chum. ‘‘ You know more 
about it than I do, Dig, I admit. But I feel that I 
just must push on up this river till I reach that 
island. I want to get there before those scamps do. 
If there is any such thing as finding the lost deeds, I 
want to be on the ground first.” 

‘‘ Uh-huh ! I’m on to your desire, Chet. But 
have a heart for the horses — do ! ” 

You stay here and rest Poke, then,” said Chet. 

I’ll have to punish poor Hero. I’m sorry ; but I 
must get on.” 

Well ! ” retorted Dig, you don’t suppose I’d let 
you go alone, do you ? ” 

‘‘ I believe I can handle those two fellows. Tony 
is only foolish,” Chet said, with confidence — per- 
haps expressing a larger share than he really pos- 
sessed. 


ex- 


330 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

Well, you can bet your bottom dollar ! ” 
claimed the slangy Dig, “ that you are not going to 
tackle them alone. Fm with you to the end of the 
dock, old man — and we’ll jump off together. 

“ Say ! ” he added, how far up the river do you 
think the island is ? ” 

‘‘ I believe we must be all of twenty miles below 
the crossing to which we trailed those fellows in the 
first place. But how far this side of that crossing 
the island is, I don’t know. We’ll just have to go 
up stream till we come to it.” 

‘‘ Suppose there are several islands ? ” suggested 
Dig. 

‘‘ Oh, don’t ! ” exclaimed Chet. ‘‘ Don’t suggest 
more trouble. I’m just as worried about those deeds 
as I can be.” 

Chet gave the horses half an hour on the grass; 
then they cinched on the saddles so the animals 
wouldn’t drink too much, and were soon splashing 
up the shallow edge of the stream. At this time of 
the year, save in certain holes, the stream ran very 
shoal indeed. The way was smoother on the beach 
than on the prairie above. 

“ Besides,” Chet said, in a low tone, “ we can’t be 
seen down here. Even our hats aren’t above the 


How It Ended 


331 

edge of the bank. Anybody riding on the plain 
would not know we were here, unless near enough to 
hear the horses splashing along.’’ 

Those fellows have never got over here so soon 
on their miserable cayuses — take it from me,” Dig 
urged. 

Nevertheless, Chet’s mind was in a turmoil as they 
rode on. The sunset faded; but the stars shone 
brilliantly over the plains that night — big, and 
sparkling, just as they do at sea. The chums from 
Silver Run did not lack for light. 

It was nine o’clock when they spied the wooded 
island in the river which Chet believed must be the 
site of the camp of which Steve and Tony had 
spoken. The water grew suddenly deep, too, and the 
boys had to force their tired horses out upon the 
sandy shore. 

Chet remembered that Steve had spoken of hav- 
ing hard work swimming his pony ashore from the 
island, and he believed this must be the place for 
which they had been searching. 

“ We’ll halt here, boy,” he said to Dig. There’s 
some greasewood up there. You make the fire and 
I’ll hobble the nags. The water must be very shal- 
low on the other side of this island. Those thieves 


332 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

rode easily out to it from the east bank of the river, 
and then had to swim their ponies over here.’’ 

‘‘ Sure ! ” agreed Dig. 

It was somewhere along here Steve thinks he 
dropped the packet of papers he stole from me. 
Keep your eyes open.” 

You bet you!” exclaimed his chum, going to 
work at once to make a fire under the shelter of the 
bank. 

They had their welcome supper as soon as it could 
be cooked, and then Dig took the first watch. He 
patrolled the camp on the bank overlooking it, so that 
he might see all about upon the plain. Their enemies 
must come from this direction. 

The men, however, did not appear during Dig’s 
watch. The boys had travelled very rapidly, and the 
sorry beasts ridden by Steve and Tony could not 
have brought them very fast on the trail to the river. 

Chet, however, spied them before dawn. The 
stars were just beginning to pale when two hazy 
figures loomed out of a distant thicket, and the boy 
made them out to be two mounted men. He soon 
heard them talking, too, for the sound of voices 
carried far in the damp air. 

The boy was excited; but he felt that he had the 


How It Ended 


333 

situation well in hand. He awoke Dig, and ordered 
him to keep quiet until the men rode nearer. Then 
the chums stepped out upon the bank boldly and 
hailed the travellers. 

‘‘ We’re here first, you fellows,” Chet said. ‘‘ And 
we have located a claim all up and down this creek. 
Don’t come any nearer, for if you do I shall shoot 
your ponies — and I’m sure you don’t want to be left 
afoot out here in the open.” 

Both men burst into ejaculations of anger and 
disappointment. But Tony’s anger seemed aimed at 
his companion. 

‘‘ What did I tell ye ? ” he cried. “ Didn’t I say 
these lil’ boys of Havens’ and Fordham’s was too 
smart for us? Now I’m goin’ ter hike out for the 
trail an’ git to some man’s town — you hear me? 
You ain’t nothin’ but a frost, Mr. Steve Brant — 
that’s what you be.” 

As for the leading rascal, his hard words could not 
hurt the chums. He retired with Tony, and they 
made camp far up stream — at least two rifle-shots 
away. The boys, however, never lost sight of them. 

As the light increased, Chet began to search the 
shore of the river. Had there been a rain since they 
bad come over it, the level of the water would have 


334 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

risen and washed out the marks of the pony’s strug- 
gles where Steve Brant had got him ashore. In this 
dry time, however, it was easy for the boy to dis- 
cover just the spot. 

And, strange as it seemed, the packet of papers 
was right there, too. Nothing had disturbed the 
papers. The packet lay under the bank half hidden 
by a bunch of weeds, and all the papers were intact, 
as Chet very soon made sure. 

“ Cricky ! aren’t you the lucky boy ? ” cried Dig, 
when he saw them. 

“ I’m very grateful that I found them,” his chum 
said, soberly. ‘‘ And let me tell you that nobody’s 
going to pry them away from me again with any- 
thing less than a crowbar. This losing of the deeds 
has been the most worrisome thing that I hope will 
ever happen to me.” 

‘‘ And we’ve had about as exciting a time as I sup- 
pose we ever shall have,” added Dig, shaking his 
head. 

Both boys, however, were somewhat mistaken in 
these prognostications, as the sequel will show, for 
we hope to meet Chet and Dig again in another 
volume, to be called, “ The Trail Boys in the Gold 
Fields; Or, The Search For the Lost Nugget.” 


How It Ended 


335 

They saddled their horses soon after finding the 
packet and rode away from the vicinity of the vil- 
lains' camp. Their mounts were refreshed and, con- 
sidering the condition of the men's ponies, the boys 
were very sure that they could keep ahead of Steve 
and Tony Traddles all the way to Grub Stake. 

Chet insisted on following the river down-stream 
till they struck the Grub Stake trail, although Dig 
was eager to go back by the way of the gulch in 
which they had corralled the buffaloes. 

** We've fooled away enough tirhe on this journey 
already," Chet said decisively. ‘‘Why, Dig! to-day 
is Sunday. We've been a week on the trail. We 
must hurry." 

“ Whew I I'd like to see if those creatures are 
safe." 

“ They're safe enough. Nobody will roll that tree 
away — not even our friends back yonder. We'll 
hurry on to town and see what arrangements we can 
make for selling the whole herd." 

“ By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ire- 
land!" ejaculated Dig, vigorously. “If you do 
that, Chet Havens, you'll be the very smartest fellow 
I ever met ! " 

“ I bet we can sell the buffaloes a whole lot more 


336 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

easily than you could have sold that little old Stone 
Fence you started to bring along/’ laughed his 
chum. 

And so it proved. The boys reached the regular 
trail to Grub Stake without mishap, and on Monday 
evening rode into the mountain mining town and put 
up at the best hotel. After more than a week on the 
trail they were glad to get a bath and crawl in be- 
tween sheets again. 

Tuesday morning Chet went to the express office, 
identified himself, made arrangements for the pay- 
ment of his father’s money to the owner of a certain 
share in the Crayton claim, and then hunted up Mr. 
John Morrisy. 

The chums found him to be a very pleasant old 
man, if illiterate. After their business with him was 
transacted, Mr. Morrisy, who had heard the story of 
the boys’ adventures, found the very man for them 
who was willing to invest in a herd of buffaloes. 

This man agreed to pay the boys a hundred dollars 
in cash on the ground where the buffaloes were cor- 
ralled. Of course, the beasts were worth a great 
deal more ; but the boys were not prepared to trans- 
port them to any market. There was a public- 
spirited citizen farther east who was willing to pay 


How It Ended 


337 

well for live buffaloes and this man at Grub Stake 
was acting as his agent. 

He gathered together a party of old cattlemen and 
various paraphernalia, and all set out with the boys 
for the valley in which the herd was confined. On 
the way out of Grub Stake they met Tony Traddles 
and Steve Brant, coming in. 

Tony, when he heard what the expedition meant, 
asked the boss for a job and got it, for he was a 
husky looking fellow and said he was anxious to 
work. He parted company with Steve Brant with 
no apparent regret on either side. 

Brant himself, the chums learned, was a man who 
went about the mining country picking up claims 
cheap and reselling them to eastern capitalists. He 
had been suspected of “ salting ” some of these 
claims, and he might have intended to salt the Cray- 
ton claim when he was at work there. 

However, neither the boys nor Mr. Havens were 
ever troubled by the fellow again. The signing of 
the deed by Mr. John Morrisy settled that. The old 
claim was controlled by Mr. Havens; and if ever 
anything of value should come from the mine, it 
would belong to him. 

The party of bison hunters found the big old bull 


338 The Trail Boys of the Plains 

and his seven comrades just as the boys had left 
them. The men praised Chet and Dig highly for 
their work in corralling the beasts. And when the 
head of the expedition saw the size of the big buffalo, 
he added a ten dollar bill to the agreed price he paid 
the happy boys. 

Chet and Dig could not wait to see the bison 
snared ; they had been too long from home now. So 
they pushed for the train and cantered a long day’s 
travel toward Silver Run before they pulled up. 

Then, riding down into a sandy bottom they sud- 
denly heard some creature bawling. Dig looked all 
about, noting the landmarks, and suddenly ex- 
claimed : 

‘‘ By all the hoptoads that were chased out of Ire- 
land ! It’s Stone Fence ! ” 

He dismounted instantly and found the calf in the 
thicket nearby. Whether it was glad to see the boys 
or not it suffered itself to be roped and this time it 
led very peaceably. In spite of anything Chet could 
say. Dig was determined to take the maverick home 
with him. 

That is how it came about that the two friends 
rode into the outskirts of Silver Run with a little red 
yearling trailing behind them and blatting its head 


How It Ended 


339 

off/’ as Dig expressed it. Everybody made com- 
ments upon it; but that did not disturb Digby 
Fordham. 

I feel just like a brother towards this dogy,” he 
confessed. “ Come on. Stone Fence ! Lift your 
heels ! ” 

At Hardpan the boys came upon a curious sight. 
There was an exciting game of baseball going on in 
the empty lot. A nine of pure-blood Indians, cap- 
tained by Amoshee, the lame Cheyenne, was matched 
against a scrub team of the neighbourhood boys, and, 
as Dig inelegantly put it, the redskins were licking 
the socks off the white boys.” 

I bet Amoshee is going after the scalps of the 
high school nine — and serve ’em right ! ” Chet said. 
‘‘ Those Indians can play some; can’t they? ” 

Finally the trail boys arrived at home, and were 
welcomed by their parents and friends. They had 
had more than a week of adventures on the trail, had 
accomplished an important errand satisfactorily, and, 
secretly, were hoping for other adventures during 
their vacation. 


THE END 


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